Still Bound
by BonnieD
Summary: Sequel to "Golden Bands to Bind Them". Set about a year after “Something Blue”. Things have played out close to canon but a little twisted in my Buffyverse due to the close encounter Buffy ‘n’ Spike have already shared.
1. Default Chapter

"Still Bound" - sequel to "Golden Bands to Bind Them" by BonnieD  
  
Set about a year after "Something Blue". Things have played out close to canon but a little twisted in my Buffyverse due to the close encounter Buffy 'n' Spike have already shared. If events of season 5 are out of order, combined, telescoped, or otherwise rearranged, it's because I needed to do so. Hope you enjoy this continuation of the "Golden Bands" AU.  
  
Special thanks to my very first beta reader, Zyrya, who helped give direction and shape to the story by making me identify my ultimate goal and useful technical advice about the writing itself.  
  
The crypt door opened with a horrible screech of rusty hinges. Spike stepped through, then paused and swung the door back and forth a couple of times. Have to do something about that. Though, come to think, it would make a good alarm so nothing could sneak up on him while he slept. He entered the room, which was dustier and more decrepit than he'd remembered, tossed his bag in the corner, and looked around to see if any of his possessions were still intact: TV - gone; armchair - lying on its side, the stuffing pouring from gaping wounds; books - torn and scattered; candles - long since burnt to nubs. Beer cans, snack bags and condom wrappers littered the floor, and the smell of vomit and human waste pervaded the air. Fucking humans! No better than animals.  
  
He sighed and kicked an empty wine bottle against the wall. Should've expected. Can't go away for months and think you'll find home like you left it. Made him wonder what other changes he'd find in Sunnydale.  
  
************  
  
Buffy walked with her head down, her stake hand swinging uselessly by her side. For once her come and get me 'tude was not an act. Her mind was so far away a bumbling fledge could have taken her. The realities of her new life swirled round and round her brain, burying it in waves of confusion and hopelessness. On her frontal lobe flashing like a red neon light and hitting her like a sledgehammer was the message MOM'S DEAD! MOM'S DEAD! MOM'S DEAD!" A trio of subheadings, 'Dawn's not real,' 'Glory's unbeatable' and 'Riley's gone' flared below it. And unconnected but as a kind of counterpoint to 'Riley's gone' was 'And so's Spike'. She should be grateful for that last. It was the one good thing in her litany of woe, but somehow it didn't feel that way. Annoying as the vampire was, he'd sometimes been useful over the past summer and she'd always been able to count on him to just...well....be there with his stupid, insightful comments and knowing eyes.  
  
But dwarfing all the lesser issues was the irrefutable MOM'S DEAD! that barely allowed her to function. How could she survive without her mommy? Despite Buffy's powers and the apocalypses she'd averted and the demons she'd faced, she still felt like a kid. She wasn't ready to be the grown up; the one who planned the funeral, cooked the meals, cleaned the house, parented Dawn, paid the bills, made appointments, and generally navigated the adult world. And more than the responsibilities, Buffy just plain missed her mother. Why hadn't she told her, 'I love you' once in awhile? She couldn't even remember the last thing she'd said to her mom. She hoped it was something good and not one of her usual flippant remarks.  
  
And now, as if she hadn't had enough major disasters in her life, there was this new, niggling worry, pervading everything. Filling in all the nooks and crannies left in her subconscious after the big issues took their chunk. At this point, it wasn't quite a blip on her radar, but hummed along just under the surface ready to turn from a possible tropical storm into a full-fledged hurricane. Could she be? She could be. But she almost certainly wasn't. Still...  
  
Buffy mentally shook herself. This brooding was getting her nowhere. Constructive thinking was the only way to break loose. Better to think of her work than her personal life. What should she be doing about Glory? And where the hell were all the vampires tonight?!  
  
She lifted her head and took a long, hard look around the quiet cemetery. Nothing in sight, but a sudden prickling at the nape of her neck told her a vamp was nearby. She took a firmer grip on her stake and glided through the night, as silent and deadly as her unseen quarry.  
  
*********  
  
As Spike began to tidy the floor of the crypt, he reviewed his life over the past year, and thought about what had brought him to this point. Obviously there was pre-chip and post-chip involved, but almost more important was pre-Buffy and post-Buffy. Much as he'd tried to deny it to himself, everything changed after Little Red's ruinous will-be-done spell. It was bad enough when he and the Slayer had been convinced that the sex and the share-bear moments were a result of the witch's spell and those bloody H'rassee wedding bands, but when the spell was broken and the rings gone and the feelings lingered, Spike knew he was in trouble.  
  
He'd tried staying out of Slayer's way, but in a town as small as Sunnydale, in the kind of circles they both moved, it was inevitable they'd run across each other again and again. He'd helped the Scoobies out on occasion - for cash, of course. Had mocked and harassed them whenever he got the chance. Had helped that wanker Adam make his bid for Big Bad of the Year in order to get the damn chip out. Spike was convinced that if he could just return to pre-chip state he could get the Slayer out of his blood, out of his mind. That plan had been a big bust.  
  
As summer and fall ground on, he'd been increasingly restless. Fucking Harmony again had only pointed out to him what he really wanted. Closing his eyes and picturing Buffy as he rammed into her stand-in, only made him feel hungrier and angrier than ever. Then came the day of the failed chipectomy and The Dream, when everything crystallized and he stopped lying to himself about his feelings for the Slayer. He'd taken to standing outside her house at night staring up at her window, listening to her moans and gasps as she and soldier-boy went at it, letting his eyes fall closed and picturing himself covering her, remembering what she felt like beneath him, going home just before sunrise more frustrated and lonely than ever.  
  
It all came to a head the night she asked him to tell her about the two Slayers he'd snuffed. He'd watched her disgusted face as he had spun his tale and the reality set in: 'she will never love me.' Of course, she confirmed this at the end of the evening, when he bent to kiss her and she pushed him down: "It would never be you Spike. You're beneath me." She might delude herself they were talking about a fight to the death, but he knew what their dance was really about. That night he picked himself up off the ground, went home and packed a bag, threw that yammering bitch, Harmony out of his way and roared off into the night, pedal to the metal. Time to stop brooding and start getting some perspective. Time for a road trip.  
  
Now, here it was several months later and he was back in Sunnydale....again. The time away had been good for one thing, to prove that he was as obsessive and single-minded as Angel had billed him to the Scoobies. He couldn't get the girl out of his head no matter how many distractions he might pursue. Wherever he'd gone, whatever he'd seen, whoever he'd done, she was still there in his head, haunting him. Finally Spike gave in to the inevitable and came back home. It was either kill her or win her over somehow, and he had a feeling killing her would only make her haunt him more, so....  
  
He picked up the trash bag of empties and broken glass and left the crypt. After dumping the refuse deep in the underbrush of the woods, he decided to take a cigarette break. He climbed on top of the low stone wall around the cemetery, one leg dangling, found his pack, shook out a fag and lit up. Blowing smoke toward the starry sky, he gazed around at his domain of toppled headstones and overgrown graves, and found that he felt....pretty good. He was still alive. Not too hungry at the moment. And though his plan to win the Slayer over was vague to say the least he at least HAD a plan now. Plus, there was the fact of seeing Buffy again...soon! He couldn't wait just to be near her.  
  
*********  
  
Buffy felt the neck-tingling increase. She was getting closer to her target. She stopped still and listened. The tiny pffft of a lighting match and a spark of light near the perimeter of the cemetery caught her attention. A dim figure sitting on the wall, shock of white hair lit by the moonlight....her heart stalled in her chest. "Spike's back," she murmured. Instantly, all her other worries dispersed. What did this mean, 'Spike's back'? Where has he been? Why is he back? Has he gotten the chip out? How do I find out? Will I have to kill him tonight? and (quietly) Can I do it? Yes I can. I've done it before, killed a lover.  
  
A lover?  
  
Spike as "former lover". Huh, she'd never thought of him like THAT before.  
  
The whole wedding fiasco had been buried as deep as she could push it into her subconscious for most of a year. Other than dealing with annulment papers and having to see Spike's stupid face around town, she hadn't thought of any of it...at all. Besides, there was Riley to distract her and delight her and to make sweet, sweet love with. It made it easy to forget that whole crazy interlude and move on. Until she followed Riley one night, caught him getting a suck-job from a vamp, received his ultimatum, then helplessly watched him fly out of her life. Buffy was still trying to sort that one out; she had caught her boyfriend in a whorehouse and HE was the one making her feel guilty for not caring enough? Go figure!  
  
She sighed...again. She seemed to spend a lot of time sighing these days. Okay! Now it was time to test Spike. Find out if the chip was still in place, and screw all these ancient memories. Maybe 'screw' wasn't the best vocab to use given the circumstances. Buffy focused her attention, raised her stake and moved toward her one-time nemesis.  
  
*********** Spike sensed her presence mere seconds before she knocked him off the wall and they rolled over and over across the ground. He lifted his hands defensively as the Slayer straddled him and pummeled his face.  
  
"Fuck, Slayer! Cut it out!" he howled, as he slipped into vamp face and bared his fangs. When she didn't stop, he grabbed her wrists and twisted - hard! Instantly the lightening jolt speared his brain, and he let go of her with a cry and clutched at his head. This seemed to satisfy Buffy. She got up and began brushing grass off her clothes.  
  
Spike pushed himself to a sitting position, and began massaging his aching head. He looked reproachfully up at her.  
  
"Good to see you again, too! Thanks for the tumble."  
  
"Sorry," she replied, sounding anything but. "I had to make sure you were still neutered after your little trip abroad."  
  
A trickle of blood ran from Spike's nose. He sniffed and wiped it on the back of his hand, and was going to have a taste until he remembered Buffy's revulsion last time he'd sampled in front of her. No time like the present to start making a new impression. He wiped his hand off on the grass.  
  
"Well, competent health care is hard to find these days. Couldn't get a surgeon to suit my needs, so I thought I'd come back here to SunnyD and see how the old gang was doing." For the first time he took a good look at Buffy's matchstick-thin figure. "Christ, Slayer, what the hell happened to you? Haven't you heard? The emaciated waif look is out. Buxom and healthy is back in."  
  
Buffy just shook her head and started to walk away. Spike jumped up to follow her.  
  
"What's the matter? Soldier Boy can't afford to take you out for a meal now and again?" His inner voice was screaming at him to shut up, that insults probably weren't the best way to win his lady-love, but he couldn't seem to make his mouth mind.  
  
"Shut up, Spike," she said dully. He could tell right away her heart wasn't in it. Where was the witty comeback? The sharp repartee? Something was definitely up with the girl.  
  
"You depressed, Goldilocks? What happened? Someone run over your dog?"  
  
She looked over at him, pacing along at her side, and her eyes were huge and shimmering with tears. His heart melted.  
  
Now I've done it, he thought. His tone slipped instantly from cutting sarcasm to honest concern. "Buffy. What's the matter? One of your friends buy it?" A hopeful thought occurred. "Finn?!"  
  
Her answer was almost inaudible. "My mom."  
  
"Oh," he said quietly. They walked along in silence for a few paces, while he tried to recall the appropriate human response to a death in the family. "I'm...sorry to hear that. She was a fine woman, your mum. Treated me proper." And as he said it, he realized it was true and that he didn't have to work to manufacture a sad tone. Though he'd only talked with her a couple of times, Joyce had struck him as a lovely person, for a human.  
  
"How did she go?" he asked.  
  
"A brain hemorrhage," she said, succinctly.  
  
"When?" he asked.  
  
"A couple of days after Riley left."  
  
"Oh." Spike managed to maintain the same quiet, reverent tone, though his heart was bursting with delight. One huge roadblock to his Buffy-winning plan had just been swept out of the way like a dam in a flood. The way was clear, all he had to do was jump through a few hoops and he'd have her! Surely the sad little girl needed a strong, manly shoulder to cry on.  
  
Buffy brushed away tears impatiently, squared her shoulders and adopted her usual tough tone, "Look. I really don't want to talk about this with you. You're back. Fine. Just stay out of my way and don't get into any trouble and we can coexist, okay?" She began to walk faster. He had to trot to keep up.  
  
"Hey, I'm being sincere, here! Is there anything I can do to help?"  
  
She stopped and rounded on him, her voice dripping with venom. "Not unless you can bring my mom back, and Dawn already tried THAT! And not unless you know some secret way to vanquish a hell bitch, who's the pain in my ass these days."  
  
"Your little sis took a turn at the witchcraft?! She all right?"  
  
"Oh she's just peachy for a kid who lost her mom and found out she's...adopted...all in one week. She's depressed and angry, that's what she is!" Buffy stormed.  
  
Given her growing fury, Spike thought it best to steer the subject into new waters. "What's the story on the new Big Bad, then? Sounds like she's a spot of trouble."  
  
"I guess you could say that, if you consider an all-powerful, rampaging lunatic a spot of trouble. She's unbeatable." Buffy finished in a small, hopeless voice, "And right now, even if I knew what to do, I just don't have the energy to take her on. Plus there is the usual assortment of minions and a merry band of knights running around causing trouble."  
  
"I'll help you," Spike responded. "Do some asking around and see what I can find out. You don't have to handle all this alone, Slayer."  
  
For the first time she looked him in the eye, held his gaze for almost a full minute. His heart beat faster, or would have, and he tried to look as forthright and dependable as her tin soldier. "I mean it," he added after the silence had drawn out to the uncomfortable stage. He spread his hands wide. "No ulterior motives. No cash."  
  
"And why would you do that?" Buffy asked evenly. "Everyone's got an angle, Spike."  
  
"Honestly, I've got nothing better to do," he answered. "You're in a bind. I've got time on my hands. Maybe you could throw a blood pack my way now and again if it makes you feel better."  
  
Buffy continued to stare at him, weighing his words.  
  
"Besides," he continued. "Since your honey took a powder and I AM your ex after all, I feel a certain responsibility...."  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes, turned, and walked on. "I thought we were never mentioning that again, Spike. It was a mistake. An aberration." He started to follow her, and she waved an imperious hand at him. "Go now. Help out or don't. Whatever. Just don't try to imagine some connection between us that isn't there. That's bordering on creepy!"  
  
Spike scowled, scuffed his boot in the grass, then turned in the opposite direction and headed back to his crypt. As usual, he'd managed to get off on the wrong foot with the girl even when he was trying his hardest. But damn, she looked good tonight, didn't she? All concentration camp survivor insults aside, she was still the finest thing he'd ever seen. And she hadn't outright turned his help down. There would be more chances to make a good impression and he would rise to the occasion every time.  
  
*********  
  
A small smile crept across Buffy's face as she walked toward home. It was the first real smile, not the falsely reassuring ones she offered Dawn or her friends, that had cracked her countenance in weeks. Her heart felt lighter than it had since Riley left when the shit began hitting the fan, piece by piece. It was true, Spike was annoying, but he was strong and resourceful, and those were two qualities Buffy really needed right now.  
  
Her stomach began to rumble loudly just as she passed the Doublemeat Palace. Usually the idea of all that fat clogging up her arteries and settling in her thighs totally grossed her out, but tonight she felt like she could eat a Doublemeat Medley, a biggie order of fries AND a chocolate shake. Funny, she hadn't noticed her clothes were getting loose 'til Spike mentioned it. A ravenous cavern opened in her belly and she followed her carnivorous instincts into the restaurant.  
  
********* Less than 24 hours passed before Spike received his first visitor to the crypt. It was late afternoon when his door flew open and banged against the wall, announcing the entrance of the Slayer and her kid sister. Without exchanging pleasantries, Buffy began making demands.  
  
"Spike, you said you'd be willing to help me, well I've got a big favor to ask. This is my sister, Dawn. You might remember her from the time you and Dru tried to kidnap her and I kicked your asses. Anyway, this hell-god Glory knows where we live now. I have to go deal with her, and I want you to keep Dawn safe. You're the only one who could protect her if..."  
  
Spike examined the girl, who was shifting back and forth from foot to foot, clutching her school bag. Poor kid looked like she was more frightened of him than of this Glory. Well, he'd soon put her at ease. Inroads. It was all about inroads into the Slayer's life.  
  
"Sure thing. The little bit is safe with me." He gestured toward his lone chair. "Make yourself at home, cutie. I don't have any juice boxes to offer, but there might be Doritos around here somewhere." Seeing Dawn still hesitating, he added, "By the way...sorry about that ugly incident couple years back. Didn't mean to scare you. It was just business, you know. Me Vampire - She Slayer, and all. It was a different time in my life, back then. You're safe as houses with the new me."  
  
Dawn glared at him, but she flounced over to the chair and sat down. Then she glared up at Buffy. "Are you sure you know what you're doing? This doesn't seem like a very good plan to me! I mean, Glory's already beaten you up a couple of times and this guy," she gestured at Spike, "looks way too scrawny to protect anybody!"  
  
"Hey, watch it!" the vampire complained.  
  
"Dawn! Please just try to cooperate for once. I'm doing the best I can." Buffy's voice was edged with annoyance and despair. The girl just crossed her arms and dug herself deeper into the armchair, refusing to meet her sister's imploring eyes. Buffy sighed and turned to Spike. She fixed him with her most dangerous Look and muttered, "When I come back for her, she'd better be exactly as I left her, or...."  
  
"You can count on me, Slayer," Spike responded with a nod. "Just do what you have to do, and...be careful, eh? Don't want to be stuck with your sis forever, if you take my meaning."  
  
Buffy turned and left the crypt. Spike turned and regarded the kid with consternation. How was he supposed to entertain her with the TV gone and all? What did one do with a 14-year-old girl, other than kill and eat her?  
  
"You play poker, Little Bit?" he asked.  
  
********** A half hour later, Dawn was raking in another pot of Doritos and gloating over her winnings.  
  
"That's how many in a row, Spike? Three hands? Four?" She giggled.  
  
"Rrrr," he growled menacingly. "Didn't your mum ever teach you not to be a bad winner?" Instantly he realized his faux pas, as the smile was extinguished from her face. "Aw fuck, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I didn't think..."  
  
"It's okay," she answered, trying to sound matter-of-fact. "Sometimes I forget, too. I'll come home from school thinking, 'Wait'll mom hears about what Lisa said to Mrs. Branch!' or something, then I come in the house...and remember."  
  
"I'm sorry," Spike said again, quietly.  
  
"It hurts," Dawn agreed, then added thoughtfully, "Of course, she wasn't really my mother but that doesn't change how I feel."  
  
"Buffy told me about that. Yeah, must've been a bit of a shock to find that out."  
  
Dawn looked at him strangely. "Just a bit," she said ironically. "I kind of went berserk at first. Cut myself to see if I'd bleed green or something! Giles' diary didn't tell me what exactly a Key is made of."  
  
"Mm," the vampire replied noncommittally, beginning to suspect there was more to this adoption story than Buffy had shared.  
  
"I mean, if someone is just a made-up human, do you think they're really real? Like, if Glory does get ahold of me and use me to open a portal, what happens after? Do I just cease to exist? Can I go to heaven and be with mom?" The girl was gathering steam now and Spike let her roll. "Am I a fairytale creature like you? Can someone who's make-believe have a soul? And how 'bout everyone's memories of me? How can that work out so perfectly with everything meshing just right in peoples' heads without there being like an alternate universe or something? And how can it all feel so real? What am I?" Her voice was rising steadily with each question, and Spike was afraid he was going to have to end up doing some hand-holding and back patting to stop her hysteria, when suddenly the door burst open and five, short, brown-robed figures invaded the crypt.  
  
Without hesitation, Spike pushed Dawn toward the ladder to the subterranean room. "Run! Hide!" he hissed, and leaped to his feet ready to tear the little blighters limb from limb. They didn't look like they'd be much trouble. The scabby-faced leader approached him, hands spread wide and said obsequiously, "If you would kindly come with us, sir. The magnificent and bewitching Glorificus requests your humble presence. We would like to escort you to our well-endowed, most resplendent holy one with a minimum of fuss, so if you'll just..." He gestured toward the door. Spike punched him in the face, knocking him across the room. Instantly, the others were swarming over him like a mass of insects...maybe fire ants, because they seemed to be stinging him. Spike dropped like a stone under the assault of several taser blasts that crackled through his body, then lay still.  
  
Jinx pulled himself up, prodded the vampire with one foot, then directed the other minions to truss him up for delivery to their beauteous mistress.  
  
"Shall we go after the child as well?" one of them asked.  
  
"No. Glorificus is only interested in her Key. She could've taken this girl when she was in her home. It is obvious to me that the man is the one the Slayer is protecting, otherwise why would she have come here to warn him right after our mistress' visit? And she brought her sister to guard him as she searches for our fortress."  
  
There was a murmur of assent, and the little servants quickly bound and dragged away Spike's unconscious body. As the door closed, Dawn's head bobbed up from the hole leading to the crypt's lower level. Her eyes were huge and frightened and her white-knuckled fists clung to the top rung of the ladder. Her protector had been taken right from under her nose, what should she do?  
  
"Go find Buffy!" she told herself, then leaped up and set off at a run.  
  
********* Spike regained consciousness when a stinging blow knocked his head to one side. He was hanging from a loop in the ceiling of a posh hotel room, his hands trussed together above his head and his feet barely touching the floor: shirtless, shoeless and alarmingly helpless. He looked up to see his attacker, a gorgeous woman with eyes that told a different tale. One wolf recognizes another, and Spike knew he was in for it. The goddess drew her hand back to deliver another heavy blow, then paused and stroked his cheek instead.  
  
"So you're finally awake, my precious! I've been looking for you a long, long time you know." She leaned in and breathed him deeply. "Funny, you don't smell like I thought you would. In fact...." Her long nail raked his chest and blood oozed to the surface. She ran her finger through it and brought it to her lips. Instantly her face dissolved in a grimace of disgust and she spat it out. She stomped her foot and faced her cowering minions. "This...this...is NOT MY KEY! You imbeciles! What were you thinking? This isn't even human. It's a stupid vampire!"  
  
As she raged around the room flinging things and knocking over lackeys, Spike tested his chains. There seemed to be the slightest give to the iron loop attached to the ceiling. He began pulling slowly, inexorably on his bonds. Glory finally seemed to have come to the end of her rant, because she returned to stand in front of him.  
  
"Unless..." The goddess ran her hand thoughtfully over Spike's shoulder, down his chest and caressed his stomach. "The Slayer was talking with you last night. Maybe there are confidences she shared? Little secrets you might like to pass on to me?" Drawing close, she pressed her red lips against his ear. "I can make this very easy for you, doll. Maybe even...pleasurable. Why don't you tell me what you know about my Key and I'll take you down and make you a little more comfortable, hm?"  
  
"Slayer doesn't confide in me," Spike said. "Look, lady, I just got back in town. Don't know a thing about any of this, so why don't you let me go and we'll forget all about it?"  
  
"I think..." Glory stepped away from him and regarded his hair critically, then began tufting it artistically with her fingers, "not! I'm thinking anyone with a connection to the Slayer is gonna be useful to me. So why don't you just..." she rattled the chain he was suspended from so he swayed slightly back and forth, "hang in there." She gave him a friendly slap on the cheek that about drove his cheekbone into his eye socket, then sashayed out of the room. Spike blinked away the tears that welled up in his right eye and sighed. It was probably going to be a very long night.  
  
********** Buffy had returned to the abandoned warehouse where she'd first seen Glory, and then checked out every abandoned factory, warehouse, store or home in Sunnydale that she could find, but with no luck. "I'm not going to wait around anymore. I'm taking the fight to her," had sounded seriously cool back at the Magic Box, but hours of wandering aimlessly had taken a lot of the wind out of the Slayer's sails. Now she just wanted to go home and put her feet up.  
  
She thought about her decision to leave Dawn with Spike and hoped it hadn't been totally insane. There was no reason to trust him. He'd never done anything for her without being paid and it wasn't long ago that he had helped Adam by separating the gang. It was even a shorter time ago that he had tried to have the Initiative doctor remove his chip. But when she was racking her brain for a safe house for Dawn, miraculously Spike's place was the first that came to mind. Somewhere, bone-deep, Buffy knew he would keep his word - that he would protect her sister even from a goddess. Still she kind of wished she'd had the sense to remind Dawn to keep her Keyness to herself.  
  
"Buffy! Buffy!" a tiny voice screamed. It sounded like it was coming from a few blocks away. It sounded like - Dawn?! Buffy took off at a dead run toward the source.  
  
She turned a corner and there was her sister, wild eyed and sweating, gasping for breath as she ran.  
  
"Buffy!" Dawn threw her arms around the Slayer and hugged tight. "They took him!" she wheezed. "They took...took Spike."  
  
"Who? Who took?"  
  
"Glory's people. Ugly little monsters with big noses and scabby faces. Brown robes. Seriously ugly! They tasered him, tied him up, and dragged him away. Buffy, they think he's the Key!"  
  
"What?! Where were you?" Buffy exclaimed. "Why didn't they..."  
  
"They saw me but didn't think I was important. I hid in Spike's basement 'til they were gone." Dawn heaved a few breaths and clutched at a stitch in her side.  
  
"Good. You're safe then. Glory still doesn't have any idea who she's looking for. She'll probably torture Spike. Thank God he's got absolutely nothing to tell her."  
  
"About me?" Dawn asked in a tiny voice. "Um..."  
  
"Dawn?" Buffy's voice rose.  
  
"Well, Spike said he knew about me! We were having this conversation when the minions showed up and, uh, I had kind of mentioned it 'cause I thought he already knew. It was really YOUR fault. You shoulda told me he wasn't in on the secret. How could I know?!"  
  
"All right. All right." Buffy murmured, tensely. "It's going to be okay. Spike's tough. He'll keep quiet. I'm...sure of it. We just have to find where Glory's holed up and rescue him before he breaks." She looked at Dawn's stricken face. "Don't worry!! It will be okay!" She was amazed at how easily the lie rolled off her tongue, and wondered what in the world had possessed her to leave her baby sister in the care of a conniving creature like Spike. They were doomed!  
  
To be continued... 


	2. 2

"Still Bound", chapter 2 by BonnieD  
  
Set about a year after "Something Blue". Things have played out close to canon but a little twisted in my Buffyverse due to the close encounter Buffy 'n' Spike have already shared. If events of season 5 are out of order, combined, telescoped, or otherwise rearranged, it's because I needed to do so. Hope you enjoy this continuation of the "Golden Bands" AU.  
  
Special thanks to my very first beta reader, Zyrya, who helped give direction and shape to the story by making me identify my ultimate goal and useful technical advice about the writing itself.  
  
********  
  
The hole in Spike's chest where Glory had poked her finger through and diddled around with his heart was still seeping a steady stream of blood. He'd been gut-punched so many times that if he hadn't taken care over the years to develop abs of steel he probably would have sustained some major damage. His eyes were both well on the way to swelling shut and he was relatively certain his cheekbone was shattered, which really pissed him off 'cause an asymmetrical face - not so pretty, and he needed to stay pretty to attract Buffy.  
  
His arms were aching continuously now, right at the socket joints just like the old days. Luckily the bitch didn't know that this was a cakewalk for him. Spike could hang around in chains for days and had done it on many an occasion. 'Course it had been a few years, but it was like stalking prey. You didn't lose the touch just because you hadn't done it in awhile, and you didn't forget how to surf the pain, not when you had been trained by a master torturer and a pixie-touched madwoman.  
  
All this reminiscing about bondage and ball gags was making him a little misty-eyed and kind of horny. He shifted in his tight jeans and wished his hand were free just long enough to adjust his bits - and thank god she hadn't had a go at the crotch area yet!  
  
The door opened and Glory was back for another round. Spike steeled himself.  
  
"All right, you've had some 'me' time to think about what I said. Now what's it gonna be? Are we going to do things the pleasant way or the hard way, honey?" she asked as she sauntered across the room. "I KNOW you've got some info for me. I can see it in those baby blues. For being Evil you're an awful bad liar."  
  
"Don't know what you're talking about," Spike muttered. "Like I told you before, just got back in town."  
  
Glory grabbed his chin tight enough to make his jawbone creak. "Look, sweetie, I know you've got the hots for the Slayer. I can smell it on you every time I mention her name. But Slayers and vampires? Not a match made in heaven. She's never gonna give you what you want so why don't you give ME what I want? Easy as pie."  
  
His nostrils flared and he glowered at her. Glory rolled her eyes and thrust his face away, snapping his head back on his neck. "Come ON! Who do you think you're protecting? And why would you bother? I'm gonna find out sooner or later so save yourself some pain and me some time and just...."  
  
"All right," he hissed, eyes narrowed. That clever inner voice he never listened to was screaming at him to continue to play dumb or, even better, give her what she wanted, but as usual Spike tuned it out.  
  
"I'll tell you." He lowered his voice and Glory leaned in, smiling happily, eyes sparkling with excitement. "You ever seen that TV show where the bloke gives out prizes...?  
  
********* While Spike was successfully pissing off the hell-god and spurring her to new heights of cruelty with his witless tongue, Buffy reconnoitered with Giles to decide her next move. She had no clue where to find Glory until, in a convergence of need and luck that could only occur on the Hellmouth, one of the scabby minions fell practically into her lap when she caught him spying outside the Magic Box. Under Giles' influence the creature was coerced into showing them the way to the hotel where Glory had set up shop.  
  
Buffy was surprised when she saw what beautiful lodgings her nemesis had commandeered. Subterranean caverns and burnt out buildings seemed to house her adversaries more often than not. Then she entered the hotel and found that, though sumptuously decorated, it was deserted - up for sale evidently - which would explain why Glory's disfigured servants could come and go without question.  
  
Buffy, Xander and Giles barely had time to scan the lobby before a contingent of Glory's minions rushed them. Although small, they were wiry and seemed to be everywhere at once like a gang of sewer rats. A pair of them had Giles backed to the wall, swinging his sword to keep them at bay. Xander lost his weapon almost immediately when one of the creatures delivered a sharp blow to his wrist that forced him to drop the axe and sent it sliding across the floor. He dove for it and was knocked flat and straddled by his foe. The rest of the servants went straight for Buffy, keeping prudently out of her range as she spun and kicked, ducked and lunged, parried and thrusted like a dervish.  
  
********  
  
Spike's eyes were now so swollen he could barely make out the shape of his tormentor as she drew back her hand for another blow.  
  
"Talk, you melatonin-deficient slug! I know you know! So tell me. WHERE - IS - MY - KEY?"  
  
Suddenly the punches that punctuated each word stopped. Curious, Spike managed to force his right eye open and was amazed and amused to see Glory's features skewing and rippling like an oil slick of colors as she morphed into another form. Her curly blond hair shortened to floppy brown locks. The very bone structure of her face and body audibly crackled as it shifted and the flesh made yummy slushy sounds that made Spike's mouth water.  
  
The god's mouth fell open and she moaned, "No! No! Nooooo!" Then, as quickly as Spike himself was able to vamp out, Glory turned into a man. A dark-haired bloke still wearing the skank's strapless red dress stood there blinking, looking like a very ugly drag queen suddenly thrust on stage in the middle of the big finale. Despite his pain, Spike snorted with laughter.  
  
The guy focused on the chained vampire and groaned in dismay. "What have you done now, you insane bitch?" He reached a tentative hand toward his victim. "I am SO sorry." He looked around for a key to unlock the manacles and spied a couple of the minions sneaking from the room. "What is going on here? Who is this guy and what was Glory doing with him?"  
  
The robed servant put his hands together and inclined his head. "The superlative, stupendous Glorificus has been questioning this humble being about the whereabouts of her Key, O Gentle Ben."  
  
Glory's alter-ego was already unlocking Spike's shackles as he listened to the explanation. The moment he was free, Spike stumbled on his weakened legs. He regained his balance, then quickly wrapped the chain around the young man's neck and began to strangle him. Almost instantly the chip fired. Pain that dwarfed all of Glory's torture strobed through his brain. The bitch's counterpart was human?! How was that possible?  
  
Ben tore the chain from his throat and whirled around to face Spike, hands held up placatingly.  
  
"Listen. I know you're upset. And I'd love to be able to explain this, but...." He shrugged. "Why don't you just go on home and try to get over it? In about a minute, you'll forget you even saw what you, uh, thought you saw."  
  
"Sir," Jinx protested. "This lowly one has information critical to our splendiferous...."  
  
"Didn't I stab you once?" Ben interrupted, rounding on the little man. "How could you possibly imagine I would do anything to help her?"  
  
"You must bow to the inevitable, your lordship. Our munificent and praiseworthy Lady will find her Key and the portal to her dimension will be opened. Then we will all return home to our.ah.haphazard world of chaos and disharmony for ever and ever..."  
  
"In Glorificus we trust!" the other minions intoned solemnly.  
  
"And I wink out of existence!" the young man exploded. "Not on your little scaly life! Not if there's any way I can stop it. I'll turn the Key over to the Knights of Byzantium personally or dispose of it myself if I have to!! Glory is not going to ruin my life!"  
  
Spike took the opportunity to stagger out of the room before the annoying little zealots or the Good Twin could gather their wits. He lurched down the hall toward the elevator doors, pried them open and tumbled down the shaft to land on top of the compartment with a thud. Opening the grille in the ceiling of the lift, he dropped through to the floor only to feel the elevator begin to reascend toward the level he had just escaped.  
  
"Bugger!" Spike scrambled for the emergency button, stopping the compartment between floors. Using his bare hands, he crow-barred the doors open with all the strength left in his battered and abused body. He tumbled down once more, this time to the lobby floor.  
  
He was stunned to find himself witness to a full-out battle between the minions and Buffy's Avengers. Giles crossed the lobby floor right in front of him, hacking and slashing with his battered blade as he pressed his foes toward the stairs. Harris had one of the opponents in a headlock and was ramming him repeatedly into the front desk, scarring the beautiful mahogany finish. And Buffy..  
  
Spike's heart swelled as he feasted on the glorious sight of the Slayer, teeth bared, grunting in that sexy way she had with each punch and kick, pummeling through several of the dwarfish lackeys. Methodical yet ferocious, she was a killing machine and he loved her more than ever. It was a bloody rescue party! She had come for him!  
  
One of the minions was cast his way and sprawled across him. Spike slipped into game face and tore into his jugular, slurping up the life-giving liquid. Rowr!!! He was starving. Even demon blood tasted good tonight.  
  
Giles and Xander forced the last two adversaries into retreating up the stairs. Buffy, grimacing in disgust when she saw the vampire feasting on Glory's minion, hauled Spike up by one arm.  
  
"Come on!" she shouted to her companions, who needed no more prompting to follow her and Spike as they burst through the lobby doors into the cool night.  
  
"You...you came for me," Spike panted as she hustled him along. He stumbled and she took his dead weight when he started to slip to the ground.  
  
"Xander, help me!" she commanded as she tried to right Spike. Xander rolled his eyes but complied, hauling the vampire's arm around his shoulders. Supported between them, Spike focused all his concentration on putting one foot in front of the other.  
  
"To my flat," Giles said decisively. "Glory probably knows where all of us reside by now but it may take her longer to find us there."  
  
The pink light of early morning was already suffusing the sky when they arrived at the Watcher's home, a place Spike had never dreamed he would be so grateful to see again. They entered and were instantly surrounded by a flock of clucking, nurturing females - brewing tea, fetching blankets, fluffing pillows and administering bandages and aspirin.  
  
Spike was dragged to Giles' spare room and tucked into bed. He revelled in the womanly attention, which lasted just long enough for Tara and Willow to bind his wounds and Dawn to serve him a nicely warmed bloodpack before Buffy shut it down by shooing everyone else from the room and closing the door. She turned to him, arms folded, and regarded him with a long, searching stare.  
  
"What?" he mumbled through his dislocated jaw.  
  
"How much did she get out of you?"  
  
"Nothing!!" Spike was deeply offended. He struggled to sit up.  
  
"Glory tortured you for, what, five or six hours and you told her nothing?" Buffy sounded incredulous.  
  
"God's sake, Slayer, you asked me to look after your little sis. Why'd you do it if you don't trust me?" He sank back into the pillows with a disgusted sigh.  
  
Buffy watched him a moment longer, then stepped to the bedside and brushed her fingers through his tousled curls once. "All right," she assented quietly. "Sorry. You did good, Spike." She rested her hand fleetingly on the side of his swollen face, then pulled back and prepared to leave. "Uh, get some sleep now."  
  
His eyes were already closed before she turned away.  
  
Buffy was halfway through the door when Spike's gravelly voice called her back. "Almos' forgot. Somethin' you should know...'bout the bitch."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"She turns into someone else...a human. Bloke named Ben. I think you could get to her then...." he mumbled, already drifting off to sleep.  
  
For an instant Buffy's eyes widened in amazement and she opened her mouth to ask a question, then a blank look came over her face. She shook her head as if to clear it as circuits in her brain blew the information right back out again. She closed the door behind her, and Spike slept.  
  
**********  
  
The next morning, or actually afternoon for the Scoobies who had slept the day away, Buffy woke when an arm smacked across her face. She pushed it away irritably, and its owner grunted and rolled over. Her back ached abominably from lying on a thin quilt over a hardwood floor with...she dug under herself and came out with a beaded, macramé purse...Dawn's purse digging into her. And the delicate whistle of Tara snoring hadn't been exactly conducive to a good day's sleep.  
  
Buffy sat up, stretching and yawning, and looked over her sleeping comrades. Anya and Xander were curled around each other like a yin and yang symbol. Lucky them. Ditto Willow, whose arm had just whapped her in the face, and Tara. Willow was spooned around her lover's back, nuzzling her neck even in their sleep. Dawn was sacked out as if she were in her bed at home. She had been given the couch and was sprawled all over it, arms and legs jutting out at impossible angles.  
  
Buffy rotated her neck to release the crick in it, and wished she'd accepted Giles' offer to use his bed. The younger people had all insisted that a slumber party on the living room floor was no problem and that his old bones needed the rest more. She glanced upstairs and thought about the occupant of the other small bedroom. Even Xander hadn't quibbled about letting Spike rest in comfort after the beating the vampire had received from Glory. Buffy wondered how he was doing. Then she wondered why he'd done it. What had made this perverse creature remain loyal as a hell-god beat him to a bloody pulp? Well, the answer was in the question she decided. Sheer perversity. Spike didn't like anyone telling him what to do. That had to be it.  
  
She rolled her shoulders once and started to rise to her feet. Instantly a wave of nausea rushed over her. She took a deep breath, waiting for her stomach to settle, and tottered into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. As she popped the packet into the coffee-maker and filled the carafe, Buffy began her daily task: worrying. "It's what I do best these days," she murmured aloud. "Pretty soon they'll be calling me 'The Chosen One - Worrier of the People'."  
  
Rummaging in Giles' cupboards, she located some bizarre kind of British crackers and wondered why the man couldn't eat Saltines like everyone else. How many years had he been in the U.S. now? She opened the bag, sniffed at the cracker she extracted, then began nibbling it. Her stomach started to settle.  
  
This nausea was not a good sign. Not at all. Everyone knows when someone coughs at the beginning of a movie they're going to die by the final frame, and if a woman is shown throwing up in the morning, well.... But it couldn't be possible, could it? Not on top of everything else. Hadn't she worked in the service of Good, protecting humanity for most her young life. Wasn't it time for the higher powers to cut her some slack? "Please god, no," she prayed silently.  
  
Buffy was an expert at living in the land of denial but even she had her limits and her inner voice told her that today she must quit stalling around and buy the damn test. At least knowing would be better than this awful wondering.  
  
"Good morning, Buffy." Giles' unexpected voice made her drop the box of crackers on the floor. She spun around.  
  
"Jeez! Don't sneak up like that!" she complained , bending to retrieve the box.  
  
He frowned at her quizzically.  
  
"Sorry," she amended, a bright smile flashing across her face. "My bad. I'm not a morning person. Not even at..." she looked at the kitchen clock, "2:30 in the afternoon."  
  
"That's quite alright. Did you find something to eat? I believe I have a box of cereal in the pantry..."  
  
"I'm good," Buffy assured him. "Got my crackers and hey, English guy's actually got a coffee maker in addition to the tea kettle!" She gestured to the percolating brew.  
  
Giles began to lay out fruit and various juices from the refrigerator for his guests. Buffy continued to chew her crackers thoughtfully while she watched him.  
  
"So," she began, "how's Spike this morning? Did you take a look?"  
  
"Yes. Yes. He appears quite...like he's been run over by a truck rather than a steamroller today. Quite an improvement." He handed her a blood pack from the fridge. "If you don't mind..."  
  
"Sure." Buffy made a moue of distaste as she cut the bag and glopped the cold liquid into a mug, then set the mug in the microwave.  
  
"Buffy," Giles continued. "I know you told us that Spike has sworn he didn't betray Dawn to Glory, but do you really think it's wise to trust him? Spike hasn't exactly been known for his veracity in the past."  
  
"I know his track record, Giles. I lived it, remember? But we don't have a lot of choice. Maybe it was stupid of me to entrust Dawn to him. I don't know. I just couldn't think of anyone else strong enough to protect her. And now, well if he's lying then Glory may be storming over here to get Dawn as we speak, but if he isn't then maybe we're safe - for just a little longer."  
  
Giles met her eyes, nodded, and returned to paring an apple while Buffy bore the now steaming cup of blood up to their patient.  
  
She knocked softly on the door to the guest room, then realized how ridiculous that was given the circumstances and entered slowly, balancing the overly full mug. Spike was still sound asleep, so Buffy crossed to the nightstand where she deposited his breakfast.  
  
It was strange watching him sleep. Without breath causing his chest to rise and fall he should have looked dead, which of course he was, but she could see his eyes moving rapidly behind puffy, closed lids and occasionally a muscle would twitch or a limb move involuntarily. He didn't look morbid at all. He looked like Spike asleep.  
  
She ran a practiced eye over his injuries. The dark bruises marring his pale skin would fade; the cuts heal seamlessly. It was the broken bones that worried her. Without a doctor to set them properly would they grow back together like a poorly put together jigsaw puzzle? She was sure his ribs were cracked, and one leg had seemed almost useless when they tried to walk him here yesterday. But Glory had done the most damage to his beautiful face and it was a crime to let a smashed cheek or jawbone mar his perfection.  
  
Buffy mentally spanked herself for dwelling on his looks. He'd heal up one way or the other, and what did it matter as long as he was still functioning and useful? Again the very obvious question of why he was being useful to her reared its ugly head and again Buffy bashed it down.  
  
She debated whether to wake him and offer him food or let him sleep some more, but she knew vampires healed faster the more blood they ingested so she leaned over to gently poke his arm.  
  
"Wakey wakey, Spike. Breakfast," she sing-songed.  
  
"I AM awake," he mumbled. "Can't open m'fuckin' eyes."  
  
"Oh." Buffy was taken aback. "Do you.do you need a cold compress or something to take the swelling down? Maybe some aspirin?"  
  
"No. Just feed me," he rasped, wildly reaching out and almost knocking the mug off the table.  
  
"Okay. Chill. Let me get you set up here." She went around to the other side of the bed, plumped the pillows and lifted the patient to a sitting position, then she reached across him and retrieved the blood. "Now be careful. It's really full and kind of hot." She guided it to his lips and he cursed when the liquid burned them.  
  
"How long d'you leave it in?" he complained.  
  
"Sorry I'm not an expert at vampire cuisine," she snapped. He was still frowning like a pouty baby, so she sighed, blew on the already lukewarm blood and offered the mug again. Judging it acceptable, he began sucking it down awkwardly through his torn and swollen lips.  
  
"So what did you think of Glory," Buffy asked after a minute of listening to his slurping. "Did you notice anything that could be useful to us? Any signs of weakness or ways to get at her through the minions? Any easy ways in and out of the building so we could sneak in and go through her things? Tell me exactly what happened the whole time she had you. There may be something you don't think is important that could prove crucial."  
  
Spike frowned again. "Didn't I tell you last night? Yeah, I found out something all right. Glory changes into human form. Think you could take care of her then. No godlike powers an' such."  
  
"Glory changes.." Buffy trailed off. "Well how do you know she becomes human? What does she look like? Maybe we could capture and cage her some way.?"  
  
"Or kill him," Spike said.  
  
"Kill who?"  
  
"She changes into a man, a dark-haired fellow, 'bout six-foot, square-jawed type. I could point him out to you but I can't do the job myself. His name was Brian.no, Ben.that's it."  
  
Spike peered through slitted eyes at the fuzzy image of Buffy looming over him looking increasingly excited. When he mentioned the name Ben, however, she froze for a second then resumed the conversation as if she'd missed half of it.  
  
"So you're saying Glory takes on another form. Maybe we could find out what she changes into and kill it."  
  
"Uh. Yeah. That's what I'm sayin'." The effort to talk was making his jaw hurt and trying to decipher Buffy's strange attitude was making his head ache. "And I'm pretty sure I said it last night too. We just have to find this Ben guy and."  
  
"Ben? I know a Ben. He's an intern at the hospital. He's a real sweet guy. You know him?"  
  
"Met him yesterday," Spike said dryly. "Lovely fellow. Look, are you off your nut or what? I'm telling you that Glory is Ben and Ben's Glory."  
  
As if she hadn't heard him, Buffy plowed on, "What brought him up anyway? I thought you were going to tell me something about Glory."  
  
Spike stared at her for a moment then said quietly, "I think I need to rest now." He slouched down in the bed pulling his pillow with him, and closed his eyes. "Check back with me at lunch time. Maybe I'll have more information for you then."  
  
"Come on Spike. Quit playing around," Buffy protested. "We are all seriously in trouble, even vampires, if we don't do something about this evil bitch. I don't know what her exact plans are but world domination is a safe bet."  
  
"Oh!" Spike squinted up at her. "That's right! I almost forgot. The Key. It's to open a portal back to her home dimension." He laughed harshly. "That's all she's here for - dizzy bint lost the key to her front door!"  
  
"Well.that can't be good," Buffy said thoughtfully. "How exactly will she 'use' Dawn? And if this portal is opened wouldn't things from her world be able to come here?"  
  
"Stands to reason," Spike agreed. He handed her his nearly empty mug in which the pig's blood was now congealing. "As for how she will use your girl, I'll wager blood. It's always the blood. Carries the essence of what a being is, you know."  
  
Buffy stared down at the mug in her hands. Suddenly one hand flew to her lips and her throat worked convulsively as she tried not to retch.  
  
"Come now. Did my breakfast offend your delicate sensibilities, love?" Spike watched her fight her nausea and wondered what was up with the girl. Considering all the pressure she was under it was not surprising she might have stomach problems, but there was something else.something different he couldn't quite put his finger on. He would have to think about it when his head didn't hurt so much.  
  
"I'm fine!" she snapped when she was able to talk again. "A little stomach flu, that's all." She rose and prepared to sweep from the room and then stopped, one hand absently smoothing the blanket at the foot of the bed. "I almost forgot."  
  
She stood there so long Spike became impatient and prodded, "Ye-es?"  
  
"Dawn wanted.and I.well, we both wanted...to thank you for, you know, what you did yesterday. It was." She slowly lifted her eyes from her fidgeting hand to his face. "It was a..heroic..thing. Thank you."  
  
Spike's eyes shifted to the side and he was suddenly intent on examining the lamp on the bedside table, but a tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Well don't make too much of it," he cautioned gruffly. "I just didn't like that pushy bitch trying to force me to talk. Stubbornness, that's what it was."  
  
"Force you? Since when does anyone have to force you to talk, Spike?" Buffy lightly teased. "But the stubbornness? That I'll believe." She smiled at him - one of those full-on, 1,000 watt, California girl smiles that melted his core - and walked quickly from the room, shutting the door gently behind her.  
  
******* "Holy fuck! What a stunner!" he muttered to himself as he stared at the closed door. That smile? It was an illustrated reminder of why he'd suffered through torture at Glory's hands. Oh yeah, he'd do it again for one of those.  
  
Spike thought about Glory's Achilles heel. What would he do if he were an all-powerful god whose weakness was human mortality while in human form? Hide the weakness, of course. Seems vampires were immune to whatever mojo she cast, but if he spoke to any of the others he'd probably get the same reaction as Buffy had given him - an obtuse refusal to see what was right before their eyes. Typical.  
  
He supposed it was just as well the humans couldn't wrap their minds around the Glory-Ben equation. Knowing Buffy the need to sacrifice one to save many would be unpalatable. She would be helpless to kill the man that hid the monster. Spike would have to take care of the matter himself. Maybe not personally, but he knew a guy..  
  
********  
  
After a day with the gang spent hashing and rehashing Spike's information about the Key and the fact that Glory changed into another form of some type, Buffy finally managed to find time alone late in the evening to patrol, pick up blood for the invalid vampire and check on her house. She also stopped and bought the item she now held in her shaking hands as she sat on the toilet seat in her mother's bathroom. Would it always be 'mom's bedroom', 'mom's bath' she wondered?  
  
She stared at the incriminating evidence she held, waiting for it to turn another color, maybe a nice magenta or a subtle peach. Even olive green would be lovely right now. But the little stick remained a bright, cheerful baby blue.  
  
"Riley, you're going to be a daddy," she murmured.  
  
To be continued.. 


	3. 3

"Still Bound", chapter 3 by Bonnie  
  
Spike's out to fix Ben's wagon. Buffy deals with the results of her pregnancy test. Everyone else lives their normal lives under the shadow of Glory. For those upset about Riley spawn. He's just a tool (in more ways than one!). Don't worry about it. Spike loves his Buffy any which way he can get her - even with baggage.  
  
Thanks again to beta Zyrya for continuing to shuttle copy back and forth with me, forcing snappier descriptions, more coherent logic and technically correct writin'.  
  
The second day after his run-in with Glory, Spike could get up from the bed and move around the room. He was already bored with being Dawn and Tara's pet project. If either girl plumped his pillow, smoothed his bedding or rewrapped his wounds one more time, he'd ... well, he'd probably grit his teeth, smile and say "thanks ever so" just as he had been doing. Anyway, having warm blood on demand was nice even if it was farm animal offal.  
  
Wouldn't be long before he could get out, though. Then he'd solve this whole Glory problem, take the weight off Buffy's small shoulders and save the world. Be a hero. He made another slow, hobbling circuit of the room. Yes, his leg was healing up quite nicely.  
  
There was a knock at the door.  
  
"Come in," he said, still astonished at how his status had changed from the bad old days when everyone felt they could barge into his crypt uninvited at any time, looking for information or help.  
  
"Hey." Buffy slipped through the door then stood there shifting from foot to foot. She actually looked nervous...and pale. Her skin was as drained of color as his own.  
  
"You look like hell, Slayer. What's up?" He considered that he would dig his own grave with his runaway mouth one day and wondered how he had always managed Dru with finesse yet he couldn't seem to stop himself from baiting and goading Buffy.  
  
She shrugged. "Nothing. How 'bout yourself? You still look trashed."  
  
"Do I? Sometimes it's a bitch not having a reflection. How's my face shaping up?" He moved in closer to Buffy, invading her personal space, and she stepped around him. There wasn't far to go in the tiny room.  
  
"Pretty as ever," she said dryly.  
  
"Good." He gave her his best lascivious grin.  
  
Suddenly the Slayer was all business. "We still haven't been able to find out any more about this alternate personality of Glory's. Are you sure you don't remember anything else."  
  
"Not a blessed thing." Spike had given up trying to explain the Glory-Ben connection.  
  
Buffy sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. "Well, our next move is to try to capture one of the Bizarrium Knights to see what they know about Glory. I need to find out where they're holed up."  
  
Spike followed her across the room. "I'll be right as rain in another day then I can help you. Why don't you take it easy 'til then? You really are looking a mite peaked. Maybe could do with some bed and broth, yeah?" He lifted a hand as if to touch her hair then dropped it to his side.  
  
"I don't have time. Dawn doesn't have time," she protested, looking ready to fly into a million pieces.  
  
He knelt before her and looked earnestly up into her face. "You'll do no one any good if you're so worn out and weak you get yourself killed," he said firmly. "One day more isn't going to make that much difference. You rest! Send Harris out on your scouting mission. Make the boy feel useful for a change. He won't be in any danger as long as he stays far enough away. Then, when he gives us a location, you and I can go in tomorrow night, guns blazing and bag ourselves a knight. All right?" He smiled winningly.  
  
Buffy looked down at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She really did seem on the verge of falling apart. Slowly she nodded.  
  
"I - I guess I could do with a little rest ... after my stomach flu," she admitted.  
  
Spike's smile widened and this time he allowed his hand to caress her cheek for a brief moment. "That's my girl," he rumbled.  
  
Buffy relaxed into his touch for all of half a second before frowning and rising quickly from the bed. Spike was forced to scramble backwards lest she knock him over.  
  
"I have to go now," she said stiffly. "Uh ... you get some sleep too." She scurried from the room.  
  
Spike rested on his heels, his right leg screaming at him to hurry the hell up and straighten it out, and watched her go. "Inroads, baby," he said, smiling to himself.  
  
********  
  
Buffy lay on Giles' bed in the blessedly quiet house and tried to fall asleep. The others had returned to their regular lives today. Willow and Tara went to their classes, Xander to his job with a promise to scout for the Knights immediately after, Anya to reopen the Magic Box, and Dawn to school. Giles was on a grocery run since the Scoobies had descended on his meager bachelor cupboards like a plague of locusts.  
  
Buffy hadn't been very happy about letting all of her loved ones out of her sight with Glory on the loose. She had made them promise to stay in crowds as much as possible, knowing that it was ridiculous since Glory could take any one of them at any time wherever she chose. She sighed and rolled over. Spike was right, she had catch up on the sleep she had missed the previous night. Constant worrying was only serving to make her feel more and more helpless, and a demoralized Slayer was a useless Slayer.  
  
She curled up, hugging her knees to her chest and tried to suppress the tears that were suddenly choking her. Maybe she should just cry it all out. It would probably be the best thing for her. A random thought drifted through her head, "You're lying in the fetal position. Fetal, Buffy! Get it? Fetal, like the fetus that's growing inside you right now. Isn't it ironic? And by the way, Buff, what are you gonna do about that fetus, hm? Made any decisions yet?"  
  
"Get thee behind me, inner voice! I cast you out!" Buffy thought back at it. "Need sleep now, not harassment. Get out, get out, GET OUT!" She giggled as she thought of Dawn's drama queen scream, and yes she realized her sister had had every right to freak when she found out she wasn't a normal human girl but still the shrieking thing was so Dawn even before she had something viable to detonate it. The giggle became hysterics and soon evolved into body wracking sobs. Buffy pressed her face into the pillow to stifle them.  
  
She cried and cried and cried. Her hands clutched and kneaded at the pillow, as she snuffled and snorted and burrowed face-down into the bed. "I'm getting snot on Giles' linens," she thought, just before a cool hand came down on her shoulder.  
  
Buffy's head snapped off the pillow, her arm whipped behind her and her elbow connected with solid flesh.  
  
"Ow!" an indignant male voice cried.  
  
"Spike! Why are you here? Go away!" She scrubbed furiously at her face as she tried to compose herself.  
  
"I was passing by on my way to the kitchen when I heard you crying. Thought you might need a little comfort. Excuse me for being a gentleman!" He scowled down at her from his seat on the edge of the bed. His hands were cupping his injured nose from which blood was gushing yet again. Spike pulled his hands away and examined them, grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and began swabbing at himself. "You are one tightly wound bitch," he informed her.  
  
"Leave me alone! Does 'go away' mean something different in Brit-speak?"  
  
He regarded her, still frowning steadily. "Sometimes it's good to talk about things even when you don't want to," he advised. "Otherwise they just circle around in your head 'til they drive you batty."  
  
Buffy lay on her back now, looking up at him and returning his scowl with one of her own. She didn't reply.  
  
Spike sighed. "Look, I know you're really worried about your sis, but this hell-god may not be as big a danger as you think. I have a plan, if you'll just give me another day to work out the details."  
  
"Don't even think about going off on one of your half-baked 'plans'. We all know how those turn out," Buffy derided. "You tangle with Glory again and she'll rip you apart."  
  
"You worried about me, Slayer?" he teased, lowering his eyelids to half- mast and adopting a flirtatious tone. "No need, sweetheart. Big Bad can look after himself."  
  
She rolled her eyes.  
  
He added, "And I promise to share all when I've finished planning, so there's one worry you can put aside. Now, what else is bothering you? You missing your mum?"  
  
She grudgingly nodded once.  
  
"Wish I could help you on that one, sweetheart, but it's just going to hurt bad for a while. Hate to sound like a fucking Hallmark card, but it will ease up some in time just like they say. Doesn't help you now though." He patted her hand, which was still clenched tightly in the sheets.  
  
"No it doesn't," she whispered. "I need her. Especially right now."  
  
He nodded. "And having that boyfriend of yours scarper when you needed him most didn't help, eh? He just couldn't take you being the stronger one could he?"  
  
"Shut up. You don't know anything about it," Buffy said coldly.  
  
"Think maybe I do," Spike insisted. "That train wreck was a long time coming."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"He never really understood you. Always wanted you to be less than what you are...."  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
"Couldn't see that the dark parts of you only make the rest shine even brighter. You threatened him."  
  
Shut UP!" Buffy was sitting up now, facing him, her eyes snapping in fury.  
  
"Well you did! He wanted a little bird to bill and coo with, to look up at him all fluttery-eyed and adoring. That's not you, pet."  
  
"SHUT UP!!" She whacked him in the arm.  
  
He clutched at it, laughing. "See."  
  
"Spike! Whatever you think you know about me.... You know NOTHING about me; who I am, what I think or feel. You DON'T know me."  
  
Instantly Spike sobered. "I know something's bothering you. Something ... else. Something more than the things you've told me. I can feel it."  
  
She folded her arms across her chest. "Get off my bed and out of my room," she demanded.  
  
"Giles' bed," he corrected.  
  
"Get..."  
  
"When you're ready to talk about it...."  
  
"Out..."  
  
"You know where to find me."  
  
"Of..."  
  
"Just trying to be helpful, you know."  
  
"This..."  
  
"Don't be afraid to share."  
  
"Room!"  
  
"Going now." She heard his chuckle as he shut the door behind him with a decisive click.  
  
She lay back down, smoothed the covers, breathed deeply and tried to regain her composure. What composure? She'd been upset before Spike came in and stirred her up and now she felt, actually... better. Annoyed? Sure. Irritated? Definitely. Still worried? Of course. But hopeless? Not so much. Evidently being mad at Spike was good for the soul.  
  
A little smile curved her lips as she closed her eyes and tried for sleep again.  
  
********  
  
Spike poked around the Watcher's cupboards for any kind of salty snack. Nothing. He took the hidden bottle of Scotch from one of the top shelves, poured a generous glassful and downed it. Then he twirled the empty glass in his fingers and thought about Buffy.  
  
Whatever was bothering her, his girl was definitely going downhill fast. There wasn't time for him to dick around waiting for his wounds to heal more. He would get himself over to Willy's this very afternoon and locate the man he had in mind for the job. It wasn't like he hadn't traveled by daylight before; it was just a little more difficult making the mad dash from shadow to shadow when your leg was wonky.  
  
But first he would need some earnest money for the exterminator. Spike looked around Giles' apartment for something saleable. After perusing the bookshelves, he chose several rare volumes and placed them in a paper bag. Then he grabbed a blanket from the couch. It was a little lightweight for his taste but it would have to do. He covered himself, opened the door to a sunny afternoon, planned his route and took the plunge.  
  
**********  
  
After a side trip to Clem's pawnshop, Spike entered Willy's dive with $2,000 in his pocket. Luck was smiling down upon him today. The very individual whose whereabouts he'd sought was drinking alone at a corner booth.  
  
"O-pos and tequila," Spike ordered as he passed the bar and pointed to the corner, "And another for my mate." He sauntered to the booth and slid in across from the assassin.  
  
The Fyarl-human hybrid ignored his presence but for a quick flick of the eyes, continuing to nurse his drink. Spike knew the creature was not only aware of him, but ready to kill him in a second if he perceived any threat. The creature was human enough looking to pass when necessary, but he had the strength of a Fyarl and if you looked closely you could see the aborted stubs of horns under his coarse mop of hair. His skin had a leathery texture and his hands seemed disproportionately large for the rest of him. It was rumored that Ersatz had never been known to fail on a mission. But he was expensive.  
  
Spike laid the roll of bills on the table. "I heard you're the one to see about causing an accident. There's a delicate situation I'd handle myself if I could but ... I'd rather have it done by a professional such as yourself."  
  
"Mm," the assassin grunted and reached for the fresh drink as Willy placed it in front of him.  
  
"It's an easy kill. A human. And I don't care how you do it. You do me a quick, clean job and I'll pay you $5,000. Half up front, half after."  
  
"Who's the mark?"  
  
"Nice young fella at the hospital. An intern. I'll give you the specifics. For that matter, I'll go with you and point him out."  
  
"I work alone," the killer rumbled. "You want to come along, have a taste of the body, I'll have to charge more."  
  
Spike nodded. "I could do with a takeout meal. And I want to see this bloke die with my own eyes. Yeah. You deliver him to me fresh and I'll pay extra."  
  
Surely even the Slayer wouldn't disapprove. Bringing the baddie to justice and getting some payback into the bargain sounded like a win-win situation. Plus Spike got to be the hero, save the bloody world, with no effort on his part. Brilliant! He chuckled his satisfaction.  
  
The Fyarl thumbed through the roll of dirty bills. "This ain't half."  
  
"I'll have the rest by tonight and I'll have all the information you need about the target."  
  
A quick call to the hospital informed him that Ben would be on shift that evening. Spike arranged a time and meeting place with his hired gun and then descended into the sewer tunnels to plunder Sunnydale for the rest of the cash.  
  
********  
  
Buffy woke refreshed and ready to face the world again after a long, dreamless sleep. She could hear Giles and Anya arguing downstairs and Dawn's shrill voice piping up every now and then. Dawn! Buffy looked at the clock - 5:20. She hoped Giles had gone by the school and picked Dawn up. The idea of her sister walking anywhere by herself right now made her shudder.  
  
Buffy sat up and instantly felt dizzy and hungry. Ravenous in fact. She headed downstairs to the kitchen from which wafted the mingled aromas of garlic and something made with apples and cinnamon.  
  
"I'm telling you, your sales will only increase if you find out what the customer needs. My suggestion box idea is a perfectly viable business practice and you're only pooh-poohing it because you didn't think of it yourself!" Anya's voice was like fingernails on a chalkboard.  
  
"I did NOT pooh-pooh. I only said I would take it under consideration, which is not the same thing at all." Giles sliced through a carrot with a decisive snap against the cutting board.  
  
"And while you're thinking, we're losing valuable sales!"  
  
"No one ever listens to me." Dawn carried on a parallel conversation with herself as she set the table. "Like, I had that great idea about the glitter pens with feathery tops that say Magic Box on them, and you would pass one out with each purchase, but did anyone ever say, 'Oh, good idea, Dawn! We'll get right on that!' No. Because I'm just a kid and my ideas couldn't possibly be worth listening to...."  
  
Giles sighed. "All right! Put up your bloody suggestion box. Oh hello, Buffy. Just make certain it's tastefully done and placed somewhere appropriate within the store. Maybe back by the..."  
  
"You think I don't know tasteful? I've been around a thousand years, buddy, I know tasteful!"  
  
"And a good afternoon to all of you," Buffy said, as she came into the kitchen and lifted a lid off the steaming pot of spaghetti sauce. She dipped in the spoon and took a taste. Heavenly!  
  
There was a knock at the door, which flew open and emitted Willow and Tara with a gust of rainy wind.  
  
"We come bearing brownies," Willow said, grinning. "The gooey, fudgey frosted kind! From the bakery," she admitted. "We didn't have time to make them. Or a kitchen. Or, you know, ingredients. But the result's the same."  
  
"Also a vegetable tray," Tara added. "The crispy, crunchy, good-for-you kind." She smiled at Dawn as she placed it on the table.  
  
"Buffy, did you send Xander out into this weather to catch his death of cold on some wild goose chase," Anya turned her tirade away from Giles for the moment. "I don't think he even took a coat this morning. And just when is he supposed to eat between going to work and doing your job of chasing down the Knights of Byzantium?"  
  
"Huh?" Buffy paused with another spoonful of sauce halfway to her lips. "I ... I didn't think ... I mean, I didn't know it was going to get stormy this afternoon. I'm sure he won't go if it's like this." She looked at Willow, worriedly. "Will he?"  
  
"He'll do anything you tell him to do," Anya said under her breath but loud enough for everyone to hear.  
  
"Maybe I should go now and...."  
  
"Nonsense, Buffy," Giles interrupted. "Xander is perfectly capable of looking after himself."  
  
"It's just a scouting expedition, right," Willow added, soothingly. "He thrives on that covert stuff. Likes to pretend he's Bond. When he gets cold and hungry, he'll give up and come home. Don't worry, Buffy."  
  
"But he shouldn't have to get cold and hungry! I better go. Giles, can I borrow a jacket? I didn't bring one."  
  
Amidst the protests of everyone but Anya, Dawn's voice cut like a whiny saw blade. "Jeez, Buffy, stop being such a martyr. Sit down and eat something!" The teenager plopped plates down at each place setting with vigor. "By the way, how's Spike this afternoon? I knocked on his door after school but he didn't answer. Is he still sleeping?"  
  
"I didn't check on him. I imagine he'll bellow if he wants something," Giles replied.  
  
"I'll go see," Tara said. "His bandages probably need changing by now, anyway." She headed upstairs, stealing a quick kiss from Willow on the way past.  
  
"Dawn's right, Buffy," Willow said, watching her lover sway up the stairs and then turning her attention back to her friend with difficulty. "You still look kind of pale. Sit down. Dinner's almost ready, isn't it Giles?"  
  
"Yes, I believe so," Giles said, putting salad greens and carrots back in the refrigerator. "We have vegetable tray, pasta and sauce, and ... Dawn, did you forget your garlic bread?"  
  
"Oh!" Dawn rushed for a mitt, bumping Giles out of her way and opened the oven door to extract a foil wrapped loaf.  
  
"Milk or juice," Anya was standing in front of Buffy with a carton in each hand looking slightly apologetic. "Or soda."  
  
"Milk, please," Buffy said and walked over to the table to sit down. She smiled at Dawn and her sister grudgingly returned the smile, and then turned her attention back to removing the bread from the foil.  
  
Buffy watched her friends, her unconventional family, moving about the simple tasks of preparing a meal. She felt a surge of love for all of them, even Anya, who was now placing a full glass in front of her with a flourish. "Must be hormones kicking in," she thought.  
  
"Um, Spike's not in his room," Tara announced from the top of the stairs. "He, uh, left a note." She descended the stairs as Buffy rushed to up toward her to take the sheet of paper.  
  
"What now! Did he run away from home?" she muttered, scanning the contents.  
  
"Let me see. What does it say?" Dawn abandoned the garlic bread and ran to snatch the missive from her sister.  
  
She read it aloud, "Buffy: Have gone to take care of your Glory problem, so that will be one less thing for you to worry about. I have a foolproof plan. It will all be over soon. See you. Spike."  
  
"Foolproof and Spike in the same context? I don't think so!" said Willow.  
  
"Buffy, he's going to get himself killed! Do something!" Dawn shrieked.  
  
"Oh, that's right, worry about the vampire while my poor Xander's out there bumbling around some fairly dangerous armed men with sharp weapons!" Anya shook her head.  
  
"I don't think Spike could get far in the shape he's in," Tara said. "Could he?"  
  
"With vampiric healing he's probably just fit enough to go out and get himself in trouble," Giles answered. "But I wouldn't worry too much, Buffy. You can still take the time to have a ." He watched the door swing shut behind her. ".hot meal."  
  
**********  
  
Spike slouched in the shadows, leaning against the trunk of a tree, and lit a cigarette, sheltering the flame against the gusty wind. He was posed to look cool and dangerous as he met again with his assassin. Actually it was more a matter of the tree holding up his exhausted body. Hobbling all over Sunnydale to collect the necessary dosh had been more tiring than he had counted on. After visiting a few vamps he knew and leaving them dustier and freer of worldly goods, he had cleared the till at several convenience stores through the fine art of distracting the clerks and snatching the money. It had been a lot easier in the days when he could go right in and snap their necks.  
  
As cool as Spike thought he was, the assassin was cooler. Ersatz materialized out of the shadows right by Spike's side, causing him to jump and then stumble on his hurt leg. The vampire regained his balance, if not his dignity.  
  
"Aren't you the slick one," Spike observed. "Pretty silent for a Fyarl."  
  
"HALF Fyarl," the creature stressed. "Where's my money?"  
  
"Here's $500 more. You get the rest after," Spike said, handing him the cash. "Your target should be coming out any time now."  
  
As if on cue, the hospital exit door opened and staff members coming off shift began trickling out, hunched in their coats against the cold. Spike waited anxiously to catch sight of Doctor Ben Doll, hoping that he hadn't morphed into Glory again by now. Just a window of opportunity. That's all that was needed.  
  
There was a long pause after a trio of nurses came chattering and laughing out of the building, then a lone male emerged. Spike waited while the man passed under a light to verify that it was Ben.  
  
"There's your man," he muttered low to the half-Fyarl. When he got no response, he turned to see if his words had registered. The killer had already vanished.  
  
***********  
  
While Spike took care of business, Buffy looked for the errant vampire and Xander. Short of walking across town calling "Xander!" "Spike!" like they were a pair of lost dogs, Buffy wasn't sure how to find either one. Xander would more than likely be in the large woods at the edge of town where she had suggested he search for the knights, but Spike could be anywhere.  
  
For lack of a better plan, Buffy headed toward Glory's hotel in case Spike had been recaptured. It was a long trek there and about halfway, as she was cutting through Shady Rest Cemetery, she began to feel very woozy and light-headed.  
  
She shook her head to clear it and kept walking, the wind whipping right through her thin shirt. She wished she had taken the time to grab that jacket. After another few yards, the world began spinning around her again. As she tripped over a grave marker and began to fall and her vision started to blacken around the edges, Buffy considered that maybe she should have listened to Dawn and had dinner first.  
  
**************  
  
Ersatz dumped the still-warm body into Spike's arms. The intern's throat had been cut, and though his heart no longer pumped blood from the gaping wound, enough had collected there to give Spike a good long drink. As he tore into the cooling flesh and dined on the life-giving nectar, the vampire was more content than he'd been in a long time. Good food and a good deed all rolled into one neat package.  
  
When he had drained every bit he could from the corpse, he rose and paid off the impatiently waiting assassin. Spike then dragged the body into the woods and dropped it in the damp underbrush. He looked down at the dead intern with pride. Buffy would be so happy when she found out he had saved the day.  
  
On the other hand.... Spike considered the mangled throat and thought that maybe he wouldn't mention the eating part of the evening. It might be hard enough for Slayer to admit that killing the human had been a necessity. He checked his clothes for stains and wiped his face on the hem of Ben's scrubs before heading back toward Giles' apartment.  
  
He strode jauntily through Shady Rest Cemetery, coat flapping behind him, cigarette smoke trailing off into the night. He breathed in a deep lungful of the rain-tinged breeze, sorting out the mingled odors and compartmentalizing them in his mind. Suddenly he smelled something sweet and familiar. Turning his head in a slow arc, he pinpointed the source of the scent and followed it.  
  
When he caught sight of the Slayer's small body crumpled on the ground several yards away, he broke into a run. He started to panic as he drew close.  
  
"She's dead! She finally met something she couldn't handle. She's gone!" his mind screamed as he pelted toward her. He threw himself to his knees beside her, grabbed her wrist and felt for a pulse. It was beating, steady and slow. He cursed himself for panicking realizing that he could've heard it beat if he'd just slowed down and concentrated. But she was unconscious and very cold.  
  
Spike tore his coat off and wrapped it around her, then lifted her frail body and cradled it against him. Her face looked paler than ever against the black leather and her gold hair straggled in damp clumps, which he brushed out of her face. He couldn't locate a head wound or any other sign of injury. Nor could he scent blood on her. It almost seemed like she had simply passed out. He wondered if that indicated a fever and felt her forehead, but all humans seemed hot to him so he couldn't tell if her temperature was above average.  
  
Spike debated taking her to his crypt where he could tend to her personally. He had visions of piling quilts on her, serving her hot tea, and then crawling in bed beside her to keep her warm. But he didn't have quilts or body heat and his microwave was on the fritz. Besides, the crypt was much farther away than the Watcher's flat and a good deal colder. He set off toward Giles' home at a brisk, if uneven, trot.  
  
To be continued... 


	4. 4

"Still Bound" chapter 4 by Bonnie  
  
Ben/Glory has been eliminated. Undernourished, Buffy fainted and Spike brought her home. This chapter - secrets begin to come out.  
  
Spike, arms burdened with Buffy, kicked the Watcher's front door with heavy thuds. There was a flutter of curtains at the window as someone checked out the unexpected visitor and then the door was thrown open by a wide-eyed Willow.  
  
"What happened? Is she all right?"  
  
"Oh, my god! Buffy?" Dawn came running from the kitchen, dropping her dishcloth. Tara followed behind.  
  
"Lay her over here," Giles commanded, gesturing Spike to the couch where he was already headed. "Where is she injured?"  
  
"Not a scratch on her that I can see," Spike grunted as he gently placed Buffy on the sofa. Miss Light-as-a-Feather had gotten pretty heavy the last couple of blocks, and his injured leg was buckling beneath him.  
  
Giles pushed past the vampire to check over his charge. He felt her limbs for breaks and examined her head for wounds. As Spike had said, there was nothing.  
  
"Maybe something internal," he murmured, resting his hand on Buffy's abdomen. "Or a spell of some kind."  
  
"Maybe," Spike said doubtfully.  
  
Buffy's eyelids began to flutter and she moaned slightly.  
  
"Buffy?" Dawn, who was on her knees beside the couch, pushed her sister's shoulder. "Hey! Wake up!"  
  
"Smelling salts. Have you got smelling salts?" Willow asked, distractedly. Giles fixed her with an incredulous stare.  
  
"Wha-at?" Buffy blinked around at them all. She struggled to sit up, Spike's leather coat sliding off her shoulders.  
  
"Sshh, just rest," Tara soothed, combing her hair back from her forehead.  
  
"Oh, now she's ready to get up, after I haul her halfway across town," Spike complained from where he had collapsed on the floor.  
  
Anya came bustling over with a cup of hot cocoa. "So, where's Xander?" she demanded, as she thrust the cup toward Buffy.  
  
"Anya, not now!" Willow snapped, shooing her away. "Are you okay, Buffy? What happened?"  
  
"I don't know.." Buffy's voice trailed off. "I tripped over something. I'm not sure." She reached toward Anya. "Actually, I could use that, please."  
  
Anya gave Willow a satisfied smirk as she handed over the steaming cup. "Be careful. It's quite hot. I made it myself," she added proudly.  
  
"Yeah, opened the packet and poured it in and everything," Willow muttered, rolling her eyes.  
  
"Of course, it was intended for me, but you can have it," Anya said graciously.  
  
There was another pounding at the front door and everyone jumped. Giles rose from Buffy's side to answer it.  
  
"Holy Moses, it's getting cold out there!" Xander entered, stomping his feet and blowing on his hands. "Feels like fall instead of spring." He took note of the group clustered around the couch where Buffy lay. "What's going on? Are you all right? Did Glory.?"  
  
"No." Buffy waved a hand. "No Glory. No nothing. I'm fine. I guess I just tripped and . hit my head or something."  
  
"No you didn't," Spike said, hauling himself to his feet with the aid of an armchair and then collapsing into it. "No head wound. I think you bloody fainted is what."  
  
"I did not!" Buffy objected furiously.  
  
"You are very pale," Giles noted. "When did you last eat?"  
  
"Hah! Told you not to go without a hot meal didn't I?" Dawn was triumphant. "Do I have to be the mom of us now?"  
  
Tara had already left her post, leaning over the back of the couch, to serve up a plateful of spaghetti and garlic bread for Buffy and another for Xander. Buffy received hers gratefully and began wolfing it down. She looked up at her friends, spaghetti noodles trailing down her chin.  
  
They were still staring at her. She gave them a pointed look, and everyone resumed more natural positions seating themselves here and there around the room.  
  
"So, did you find anything out about the knights, Xander?" she asked between bites, taking the focus off her alleged fainting spell.  
  
Xander gulped down his mouthful of spaghetti, almost choking. "Well I, uh, actually never quite made it to the woods. It was so cold, and I didn't see any of the knights to follow so it seemed kind of pointless and.."  
  
"Stopped in at the bar did you?" Anya asked, arms folded and toe tapping. "With those friends from work."  
  
"I didn't think anyone would mind," Xander said, and then asked Buffy, "Were you out looking for me?"  
  
"No. She was looking for Spike," Dawn explained. "He went off with some half-cocked scheme to beat Glory and she went racing after him like the cavalry."  
  
Now everyone's eyes were on Spike.  
  
"You have something to share?" Buffy demanded. "What did you think you'd accomplish in your condition?" She gestured at his purplish bruised face and arms that almost matched his black T-shirt.  
  
Spike sighed and began the Glory equals Ben explanation again, praying that the cloaking spell had died with the hell-god. When he finished, everyone was staring at him open-mouthed.  
  
"So you're saying Glory is Ben and Ben is Glory," Xander slowly reasoned.  
  
"That's what I've been saying the last two days to your valiant leader here." Spike nodded at Buffy. "And to anyone else who would listen. But none of you could retain it for longer than it takes a hooker to drop her drawers."  
  
"Of course!" Giles said thoughtfully. "I should have known the.."  
  
"Don't even start with the 'I would've figured it out eventually' bollocks," Spike interrupted. "You were just as clueless as the rest. It took me to fix things."  
  
"What did you do?" Willow asked. "Find someone to break the cloaking spell? I could've done that if you'd asked, even if I couldn't see the secret the spell was covering."  
  
"Nope. Better than that," Spike said smugly. "I took care of Ben entirely."  
  
"What does that mean?" Willow looked annoyed.  
  
Spike cocked his head and looked at her meaningfully. "I took care of him."  
  
"What did you do?" Buffy practically whispered, lowering her fork to the plate.  
  
"Hired someone to take him out, and there's the end to your troubles!" Spike announced.  
  
" 'Take him out'? You mean kill him?" Xander was looking appraisingly at the vampire.  
  
"You had Ben murdered!" Willow gasped.  
  
"Well, yeah. It was the only way to get rid of your hell-god neat and easy."  
  
"How do you know?" Buffy's even tone was starting to rise. "How do you know it was the only way? For all we know, Ben was an innocent human, a bystander who couldn't help his connection to that ... creature. Maybe I could have talked to him, reasoned with him, worked with him to find a way to control or diminish Glory. You didn't even consult me!"  
  
"I tried, now didn't I? You weak-minded humans couldn't even wrap your minds around the fact that Ben was Glory so how could I possibly get your opinion on the matter?" Spike paused and then resumed indignantly. "And that's what's really chafing you isn't it? That I didn't ask your permission first! You fancy yourself quite the little Napoleon, don't you?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You can't stand that someone might have a good idea and carry it out without doing it on your command!" his voice rose. "Well bugger that! I'm not your bloody minion."  
  
Buffy, suddenly on the defensive, fumbled for a reply. "I ... You ... You're missing the point. It's wrong to kill people," she tried to explain. Tara nodded agreement. Anya shrugged and cast Spike a sympathetic glance.  
  
"Well, actually," Giles' quiet voice interrupted. "In this instance at least, perhaps what Spike did was justifiable." He settled his glasses on his nose and looked at the Slayer. "Buffy, the whole world weighs quite heavily against the value of one life."  
  
Spike managed not to speak, but looked as smug as the Cheshire cat, folding his arms and settling back into his armchair.  
  
Buffy turned on her Watcher. "I can't believe this. You're taking his side?"  
  
"Not precisely. I do think further investigation might have been in order, but you must admit his method was extremely effective."  
  
"Hear. Hear," Anya supported. "Go team us. We're alive. Glory's dead. What more do you want Buffy?"  
  
"If you can't see it, there's no point in me trying to explain it," Buffy exploded. "It's wrong to take a human life, pure and simple."  
  
"Glory would've taken Dawn eventually. I told you what the scabby little bugger said; the Key was made to open a portal to hell. The bitch would've used Dawn's blood, these things always take blood, and you couldn't have done anything to stop it!" Spike's voice was hard. Dawn looked aghast as the full import of her purpose was revealed to her. "It was the only way," he finished firmly.  
  
Buffy shook her head. "I can't believe that. I won't. Murder is never the way."  
  
"You know," Spike leaned forward in his chair, scowling. "It wouldn't hurt you to show a little bloody gratitude for a change instead of busting my balls. I saved you a lot of pain and trouble and the need to dirty your own delicate little hands with it. If you can't thank me, at least let it go!"  
  
Willow interrupted, "But Spike, the point is that you didn't consult with any of us. Maybe eliminating Ben was the practical way to go, but it couldn't have been the only way. With time and some research maybe I could've found a spell.."  
  
"Oh please, Sabrina! I think a hell-god is a just a tad out of your league," he sneered.  
  
Willow's face grew stormy. "You might be surprised," she snapped.  
  
Spike opened his mouth, ready with a comeback, and Xander raised his hands and stepped between them. "I hate to play devil's advocate," he said, casting a withering glance at Spike, "I mean I really despise it, but I have to admit killing Ben was effective. Not what a moral, sane person would do, of course," he said, catching Buffy's glare, "But Sunnydale's safe again . for a while at least. There may be a little mopping up of the minions to do and we still don't know where those knights fit into all this, but overall, I gotta say I'm going to sleep better tonight knowing Glory's gone."  
  
Buffy looked at Giles, who was intent on polishing his glasses; at Willow, folding her arms and shaking her head; at sympathetic Tara, impatient Anya, conflicted Xander, irritated Spike . and Dawn. There her gaze stopped. Dawn regarded her solemnly with unreadable eyes.  
  
Buffy gave her sister a little smile.  
  
The clock ticked in the silence.  
  
Anya cleared her throat.  
  
"All right." Buffy's disapproval was evident from her stiff posture and even stiffer tone. "I still think it was wrong." She fixed Spike with an intense stare. "And you can call me Napoleon but I don't want any more decisions made without consulting me first! Anyway, it's done now." She toyed with the spaghetti noodles on her plate then set it on the coffee table. She looked up at Dawn again, "Well ... I guess we can all go home."  
  
Buffy rose unsteadily from the couch. Retrieving Spike's coat, which was crumpled beneath her, she tossed it at him. He caught it, jaw tightening in disappointment at the reception his news had received.  
  
Following Buffy's cue, the rest of the Scoobies dropped the issue and began gathering their possessions, tacitly ignoring the vampire in their midst. Giles carried Buffy's plate to the kitchen. Spike watched them all for a moment, then leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes with a sigh. He looked bedraggled and exhausted; his hair tufted from the wind, the bruises standing out in high relief against his white skin.  
  
As the others tidied the kitchen and living room, Dawn approached Spike hesitantly. Her eyes were huge as she reached out and lightly touched his arm. His eyes flickered open and, when he saw who it was, he smiled. When she continued to stand there mute, he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Thank you," Dawn said quietly, frowning a little in her earnestness. She gave his arm a pat. "I'm glad you did it."  
  
He nodded. "It was a pleasure to see him die, Niblet," he admitted just as quietly. She returned his nod and moved away to gather her schoolbooks.  
  
Tara and Willow left after insisting the Buffy make a doctor's appointment if she had any more dizzy spells.  
  
"Come on, Buff, Dawnster, your carriage awaits," Xander said jauntily as he ushered Anya and Dawn out to his car.  
  
"Just a minute Xander. I'll be right there." Buffy turned and looked back at Spike from the open door. She walked over toward him, arms crossed over her chest, and stood there a moment watching his non-responsive face.  
  
"Spike, I don't approve of what you did to Ben, but I do owe you thanks for bringing me here tonight. I don't know exactly what happened, but I was pretty much vampire-bait out there. So ... thanks," she said brusquely.  
  
He shrugged and replied without opening his eyes, "Don't mention it."  
  
Buffy shifted around a little and the silence dragged. Finally she burst out in a rush, "Why do you do it? Why do you keep trying to help me? What's your angle?"  
  
His eyes opened halfway and he fixed her with a heavy-lidded stare. "You really wanna know, Slayer?" he asked pointedly.  
  
She paused and answered softly, "No. Maybe not," then turned and left quickly.  
  
Spike settled back in his chair once more, eyes closed, an almost-smile playing at the corners of his mouth.  
  
Giles strode out of the kitchen with the bottle of Scotch and two glasses. He poured and handed one to Spike then sat on the couch across from him and watched the vampire knock it back.  
  
Pouring his own drink, he swirled the amber liquid around the glass thoughtfully.  
  
"You remember what I said last year?" he asked. "About obsession?"  
  
Spike made a non-committal, "Mmph," and held out his glass for another shot.  
  
Giles withheld the bottle and pierced him with a level stare, "Listen well, Spike, and learn - There is no place for you in Buffy's life."  
  
Spike snorted and shook his head then set the empty glass on the coffee table. He rose, shrugged his coat on and limped toward the door without a backward glance.  
  
"Spike!"  
  
"What?" With a resigned sigh, he cast a look over his shoulder.  
  
Spike neatly caught the half-empty bottle, looked at the label, and dipped his head in acknowledgement of the gesture before slipping silently out the door.  
  
***********  
  
Spike fully intended to go straight home. His body ached like a root canal without Novacain and he could barely concentrate on walking. Maybe that's why his feet carried him almost five blocks out of his way to pass by Buffy's house on his way to the crypt.  
  
He leaned against the tree in the front yard, rapidly emptying the Watcher's bottle of Scotch as he watched the illuminated stage of the Summers' living room. Buffy and Dawn were seated on the couch in front of the window where he could clearly see their profiles as they talked. Dawn was speaking intensely, tears coursing down her cheeks. Buffy smiled and replied, brushing back Dawn's long brown hair and leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead.  
  
They made a pretty picture, and Spike ached to be there with them in the warmth and light. Buffy stood and drew the drapes. He sighed and walked on, stumbling slightly on an uneven patch in the sidewalk. He cursed as he caught his balance, threw the empty bottle in someone's lawn and continued on toward home, ready to crawl down in his cellar and not move for three days.  
  
He didn't notice that across the street from the Summers' house, the driver of a black van started the engine and cruised slowly away.  
  
********  
  
Late the following afternoon Buffy walked out of the free clinic with another positive test result and a Facts You Should Know About You and Your Baby pamphlet. After a day of job hunting and being turned down by every business in Sunnydale except the Doublemeat Palace, which not only took her application but gave her an interview on the spot, she had stopped into the clinic on a whim and prayed that the home test she had taken would prove to be a mistake. It wasn't.  
  
Buffy didn't know how much of her stomach rolling like a sailor on shore leave was due to nerves and how much due to hormones run amok. In one brief stab of honesty and clarity, she realized she was grateful to Spike for solving the Glory problem. It left her free to concentrate on the huge decision she was going to have to make very soon.  
  
The stack of unpaid bills on her dresser - medical, funerary and household - were telling her to use logic and terminate the pregnancy. Her heart was already decorating her mom's office as a nursery and picking out baby clothes. She simultaneously wished she could share the news with Riley and was grateful that he was out of reach so she needn't consult him.  
  
Buffy sighed and looked down at the cover of the pamphlet, which showed a smiling young mother cradling a newborn. Tears began to well in her eyes, and she blinked them away furiously. Oh no. Not going there again. Today she was strong Buffy, decision-making Buffy, in-control Buffy, not weepy- eyed, crybaby Buffy. With a last sniffle she tucked the brochure into her purse along with the sample of pre-natal vitamins the nurse had given her and set off for home at a brisk pace, planning what cupboard leavings she could put together for Dawn's dinner.  
  
**********  
  
Spike was on a redecorating expedition. When he woke that evening and took a good look around the crypt, he realized it wasn't exactly Buffy-friendly. It wasn't enough to be as good-looking as he was, his crypt must also have the appropriate furnishings and décor to make Buffy feel comfortable and at home if she came by. Of course there was no indication that she would ever be visiting him for any reason other than buying information, but a fellow had to have hope - had to make a plan and stick with it to keep himself moving through life.  
  
He was on a mission to dismantle a sumptuous bed he'd found while shopping in the U-Lock-It storage bays and reassemble it in the crypt basement piece by piece. This would take several trips and a lot more strength than he currently possessed, but he was determined to have it done by the end of the night.  
  
He walked through Restfield Cemetery singing softly about love and loss and redemption as told by the Clash, when far across the open ground he saw a familiar blond head shining in the moonlight. Buffy was whirling, kicking and stabbing with her stake. A shower of dust particles soon glittered in the ambient light, surrounding her like a halo.  
  
"My angel of death," he murmured to himself. He approached her stealthily, slipping from shadow to shadow until he stood behind a monument only a few yards away. "Spike," she said without even turning. "You're going to get a hole in the heart one of these times trying to stalk me like that. Why can't you just walk up and say hello like a normal person?"  
  
"Thought you were still pissed at me," he answered, falling in step beside her. "Thought you might try and rearrange my nose again."  
  
"I am still pissed at you. What you did was wrong. But did you miss the part where I said thanks for helping me?"  
  
"Didn't think you meant it."  
  
"I did, but if you're fishing for more gratitude, that's as much as you get."  
  
They walked in silence for a few minutes, listening to the night noises and scanning for enemies. Spike shot a few sidelong looks at Buffy, gauging her health. She looked a little less peaked than she had yesterday and maybe just a mite less worried, but there was still something off about her. Had been ever since he'd returned to Sunnydale. He couldn't quite place it. Something about her body, her movements, her very being was different.  
  
He moved closer to her side and unobtrusively inhaled her scent, listened to her breathing, listened to her heartbeat. Her heartbeat . That was it! Somewhere under Buffy's strong, steady pulse was another rhythm, lighter and quicker but undeniable. Spike froze in his tracks.  
  
Buffy walked on another yard before she noticed his absence. She turned and looked at him. "What?"  
  
"You're pregnant," he blurted, raising his hand and pointing like the accusing boyfriend in a bad soap opera.  
  
Buffy stared at him, wide-eyed. "What?"  
  
"With child. Knocked up. Watermelon in the cupboard. Punching out a puppy. In a delicate condition."  
  
"How do you . How could you know that?" She was too shocked to bother to deny it.  
  
"Can hear its heart beating away in there," he answered, staring perplexedly at her still-flat abdomen. "How long?"  
  
"Almost three months." Her arms went into their typical defensive cross.  
  
"When did you find out?"  
  
"Two nights ago. Today for sure."  
  
"You gonna track down Finn and tell him?"  
  
"He's in a Central American jungle somewhere. I don't know."  
  
"Planning on keeping it?"  
  
"I don't know!" Buffy's voice was taking on an edge and Spike stopped grilling her. She turned and began walking again and he followed behind.  
  
"Your friends know yet?" he asked after a little bit. "The Watcher?"  
  
She spun around, eyes flashing. "You ask me one more question and I'm going to punch you in the nose!"  
  
"You should talk to them. You'll feel better," he pressed on, ignoring her flaring nostrils and tensing muscles. "At least, maybe that quiet girl, Willow's bird. She seems a soft shoulder to cry on."  
  
"I'll tell them when I'm ready. I just found out myself and I don't know what the hell I'm doing." Spike realized her angry eyes were also glistening with tears and her chin was quivering. "I can't even keep my mom's African violet alive, how can I be trusted with a baby?"  
  
"You want to keep it," Spike said slowly and appraisingly. "I can tell. You're mucking about telling yourself you have options but inside you've already decided."  
  
"I h-have not. I can't have a baby. It's all I can do to keep me and Dawn afloat, to keep a roof over our heads. And then there's my slaying. It's impossible." She was snuffling back tears in earnest now. Spike took a step closer and reached out a tentative hand to pat her back.  
  
"There've been Slayers with children before," he started to explain, then bit his tongue remembering how that particular Slayer had died. "You should do what you want."  
  
His reassurance only produced a loud burst of sobs, and Buffy covered her face with her hands. "Stop it! Stop b-being n-nice!" she wailed.  
  
Without further encouragement, Spike moved from back-patting to holding. He slipped his arms around the Slayer and pressed her against his chest. She was heaving and sobbing but not pushing him away or hitting him, so he took it as a good sign and started stroking her back, murmuring soothing little "there nows".  
  
"Shhh, love," he whispered into her hair, mentally adding a thousand other endearments (my heart, my sweet, my goddess). "Shh." He tightened his hold and found that she had relaxed into him, moving her hands from her face to the front of his shirt, which she was clutching in each fist. He nuzzled the top of her head and continued smoothing his hands up and down her back. She felt so warm and soft, if a bit soggy, he wished she'd have a crying fit every day.  
  
Buffy stood in his embrace for almost five precious minutes before she regained her composure and pushed away. She scrubbed furiously at her eyes and wiped her runny nose on the hem of her shirt. "This is ridiculous," she muttered. "I'm a faucet!"  
  
"Never mind, pet. It's the hormones. You've got to expect you'll be a bit wonky for awhile." He gently took her elbow and started escorting her home. She shook off his hand but continued to walk by his side, shuffling disconsolately through the grass.  
  
They walked in silence again until they reached her street and stopped in front of her house. Buffy looked up at the windows, lights blazing in each one. "Great, Dawn, run up the electric bill," she complained. "Dawn is a curse sent to pay me back for every time I opened my window while the air conditioning was on or left the fridge door wide open after I got out a snack." She smiled ruefully and met Spike's eyes for the first time since she'd allowed him to comfort her.  
  
He smiled back, but kept his hands to himself.  
  
Before she started up the walk to the house, he said, "Just do what your heart tells you, pet." Then he added with a mischievous grin, "But remember the little blighter will probably be a potato-nosed jackass like his dad or worse yet, you might unleash another Summers woman on the world."  
  
Buffy started to laugh in spite of herself, choked it back and punched Spike in the arm - hard. He dodged away, rubbing his shoulder and mock scowling. He watched her up the walk and into the house before heading off to his previously scheduled errand.  
  
His mind was busy weighing pros and cons as he walked toward the factory. On the plus side, Buffy was more emotionally fragile than he'd ever seen her and needed someone to help her through her crisis and he was poised to step in and do just that. On the downside . There was no downside! Finn's little sprog was just the key he'd needed to unlock Buffy. Spike would show her how dependable and protective and whatever-the-bloody-hell- else she needed he could be. He would provide her with everything and in return, eventually, he would get everything he had hoped for.  
  
Inroads! Oh yeah.  
  
He stopped grinning and walking as a sudden thought dashed holy water in the face of his plan. What if the soldier came back? What if Buffy located him and called him home to do his manly duty?  
  
Spike shrugged and continued on his way. Best not to put the cart on the eggs in the basket. One worry at a time. After all, mail could be intercepted. As could people who showed up where they weren't wanted.  
  
To be continued.. 


	5. 5

"Still Bound" chapter 5 by BonnieD  
  
Glory is vanquished. Buffy's secret has been discovered by Spike, who is relentlessly wooing her. This chapter: Buffy deals with finances and friends. This chapter rated R for brief graphic scene.  
  
A shout-out to my beta Zyrya, who continues to do a fantastic job of helping me retool my work. Find out why she's so good by checking out her story "Crash" (a rewrite of "Crush" in which Buffy actually uses her brains to get out of the situation) here:  
  
*********  
  
The trippy music of Saturday morning cartoons blared through the house, reminding Buffy that her sister was alive and safe and as annoying as ever. She stirred her rapidly disintegrating cornflakes around the bowl, trying to chase down a runaway piece of banana then gave up on the mushy cereal and grabbed a blueberry Pop Tart from the box instead. She wandered into the living room and perched on the arm of the sofa next to Dawn.  
  
"Something's wrong with the washer," Dawn announced without looking up from Spongebob Squarepants. "It's not filling up right."  
  
"What does that mean?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Water's too slow. I don't know. Check it out." Dawn was unconcerned.  
  
Spongebob was driving Squidworth to tears with his squeaky boots and Dawn burst out laughing as if she hadn't seen the episode a dozen times before. Buffy gave up on sister share time and headed for the basement to see what was up with the washing machine.  
  
It turned out the washer was fine but the plumbing was shot, as Buffy discovered when she tried to tighten a leaky valve and ended up breaking off the fitting, sending water exploding from the pipe. Drenched and desperate, she stood in the middle of the basement cackling insanely as water jetted out of the broken pipe and began pooling on the floor.  
  
"I'm in hell," she announced to the world. "Glory's plan succeeded and I'm living in a hell dimension. No one on earth has luck this bad."  
  
Xander agreed, when she called him and he came rushing to the rescue with his work-buddy Tito en tow.  
  
"Jeez Buffy, you make Job look like a sissy. It's like the Powers That Be put a Kick Me sign on your back."  
  
When Tito showed her the bottom line on the proposed repairs, Buffy knew this was the last pile on her dung heap. She had been barely making headway in paying the regular bills, keeping the lights and phone on and supplying Dawn with life-giving cable TV. Now the glory days of a warm home and food in the cupboard were about to be a thing of the past if she didn't find a way to get a powerful injection of cash flow fast.  
  
She thanked Xander and his friend for coming out on a Saturday morning and for putting a temporary fix on the situation. After they left, Buffy called her bank to make an appointment with the loan officer, but since it was now Saturday afternoon, the bank was closed.  
  
"I'm going to the mall with Janice. Got twenty bucks?" Dawn bounced into the kitchen and grabbed an apple. She took one look at Buffy's glowering face, heaved a dramatic sigh and said, "Never mind. I'll window shop, as usual."  
  
"Dawn, we have to clean up the mess down there - mop the floor, get the boxes up out of the water. You can't just take off."  
  
"Janice and her mom are already on their way over. I have to go! We can clean up tomorrow. It's not like things are going to get any wetter than they already are."  
  
Buffy wavered since the idea of facing the basement again was daunting. Dawn caught the hesitation and pounced on it.  
  
"I'll help tomorrow, I promise! Maybe we could just turn it into a garage sale, haul the stuff right out to the street and put up signs with balloons. Whaddya think?"  
  
"Fine," Buffy sighed. "Go! Be a mallrat, and have fun." The words were barely out of her mouth and Dawn was out the front door.  
  
Buffy poked around in the fridge, pulled out some expired bologna and a single slice of dried and curling cheese, and made a sandwich. She wandered up to her room, gathered all the bills from her dresser and spread them around on her bed in little piles, which ranged from 'must pay yesterday!' to 'will pay when hell freezes over'.  
  
She stared at them for a while waiting for something to happen, then the doorbell rang and it was Willow coming over to hang out and complain about her love life.  
  
"It's like she doesn't trust my judgment," Willow said. "Every time I use magic lately she questions me about whether it was necessary. I know what I'm doing and I don't appreciate her second-guessing all my actions! Don't get me wrong. I love her. She's my little snuggle-bunny and I wouldn't do anything in the world to upset her, but sometimes," she lowered her voice confidentially, "she's such a prissy-pants!"  
  
"Well," Buffy considered how to answer the complaint delicately, "I'm sure Tara is only concerned about you. It shows how much she loves you when she worries. Kind of like a mom. But Willow, did you ever think that maybe she has a point? Tara's pretty smart about all that Mother Earth magic stuff. Maybe she's tapping into your aura or something and sees that you're off balance."  
  
"Off balance! You think I'm off balance?" Willow's face screwed up into a wounded frown. "I'm not. I'm perfectly ... on balance. I'm as balanced as a Cirque de Soleil juggler on a tightrope!"  
  
"I didn't say I thought you were," Buffy protested. "I said maybe Tara thinks you are. That's all."  
  
Willow hugged the couch pillow to her chest and sighed, "Sorry. I'm a little bit cranky. You're right. Tara's just being over-protective and that's really, really sweet. I have to look at it the right way."  
  
"Uh, yeah," Buffy agreed, wondering how Willow could be so intelligent and so ignorant at the same time.  
  
The young women sat silently for a moment. Buffy knew this was the perfect time for sharing confidences, none of the others around for a change, the mood between them more relaxed and like high school days than it had been over the past year. But her mouth refused to work. She couldn't bring herself to tell her news. And then the moment was past.  
  
"So," Willow cast the pillow away from her and stood up. "You ready to face the foe? I'm up for swabbing water and salvaging boxes if you are."  
  
"Let's leave it 'til tomorrow. Today is too beautiful to be indoors. How 'bout we get a cappuccino at the Espresso Pump then hike out to the woods and see if the Knights of Byzantium are encamped there. I won't be comfortable until I know whether those medieval rejects are still after Dawn."  
  
"Okey-dokey," Willow chirped brightly. "Puttin' on my hiking boots."  
  
In less than twenty minutes they were on their way, leaving the Summers' house silent but for the drip, drip, drip of the basement pipes. Out on the street a black van pulled up and a man emerged and looked up and down the block at houses that drowsed in the afternoon sunlight.  
  
The figure darted to the shrubbery in the Summers' front yard, tucked a kitschy garden gnome in the greenery, then trotted back to the van, which started to pull away. The short man pounded on the door. The van stopped. He reached for the handle and the vehicle began to drive off again as the man ran alongside. This stop-start cycle was repeated a few times before the man finally managed to get the door open and jump inside. The van pulled away with a squeal of tires.  
  
*********  
  
"What am I to you?" Anya turned to Xander and fixed him with her bright eyes.  
  
"What are you to me?" he repeated, searching for the answer she wanted. "Why you're ... Anya, my sweet and ... and special girl." He cuddled her close to his side as they walked along the pathway dodging joggers and kids on skateboards.  
  
"And what does that mean," she pressed. "Does it mean you want to marry me? 'Cause if you asked, I would."  
  
"Would? Would what would?" Xander stuttered. "Marry? Where did that come from?"  
  
"Look around you, Xander! It's all over this park. Families! With children - little people and mommies and daddies. Isn't that what humans do, make families?"  
  
"Whoa! Children? How'd we get from marriage to children in one sentence?"  
  
"Well that's the logical progression: love, marriage, children, old age, death."  
  
"And I thought I felt my life passing before my eyes when I went up against that Kuschol demon."  
  
Xander saw the will-not-be-denied look in Anya's eyes and stopped teasing. "Look, An, I'm all for ... those things you mentioned. Just not right now. We're still young. We have plenty of time."  
  
"No. No we don't. We're aging every day. Our flesh is deteriorating faster than new cells are growing. I saw it on the Discovery channel. Xander, we're just a blip in the history of time. We have to do things right now - seize the day - before we're toothless octogenarians moldering in some tastefully decorated but depressing institution."  
  
Xander's mouth opened and closed fruitlessly. Anya pulled away from his side and spun around to face him on the path.  
  
"So what do you say? Are you ready to make a commitment?"  
  
"C-commit ...ment. You mean like today? This very minute?" he hedged.  
  
"You love me don't you? We have beautiful sex together and we both like to watch the X-Men. What are we waiting for?"  
  
"Anya, we're only . at least I'm only twenty years old. That's not considered aged in human life. I do care for you. You know I do. But I'm not ready for a lifetime commitment."  
  
Anya's jaw set and she nodded her head in time to his words. "I knew it. My friend Halfrek told me. She reminded me about mortal men and their commitment issues. She reminded me of why I became a vengeance demon to begin with but would I listen? Oh no, I said, he's different. He's spec."  
  
Before she could wind up into a full tirade, Xander grasped her upper arms and looked deep into her eyes with his puppydog browns. "Please . give me time. I've heard what you said and I'm not saying I never want to marry. I just need time to think about it."  
  
Anya sighed deeply and relaxed her stance. She nodded, her dissatisfaction still evident in the twist of her mouth. Xander leaned in and kissed her pouting lips until she responded, grudgingly at first then with growing passion. Soon they were making out on the footpath in full view of the mommies and daddies and little kids.  
  
"Hey! Want to take that somewhere private?" an irate daddy yelled, while the mommy diverted her preschooler's eyes to the duck pond.  
  
"Sorry," Xander called back, a bit muffled by Anya's tongue in his mouth.  
  
She pulled back, all glistening lips and sparkling eyes. "There are bushes behind the amphitheater. I read in Cosmo that sex is supposed to be even more intense when you have it in unlikely and semi-public places.."  
  
***************  
  
Spike lay on his new bed, smoking and staring up at the earthen ceiling, bored out of his mind. It was still daytime but he wasn't sleepy. All he could do was lie there and think of Buffy and how, against all odds, he'd had her in his arms two nights in a row. Of course she'd been unconscious the one time and crying her eyes out the other, but it was still progress.  
  
His mind drifted back to the night they had shared in Las Vegas after Willow's spell gone bad. Funny, but the very thing that had appalled him when he awoke from the enchantment, all that fuzzy caring and sharing nonsense, was what he now cherished the most. Sure the roller-coaster sex, both during the spell and that one other time just before the rings disappeared, had been phenomenal. But finding a good lay had never been a priority for Spike. He'd had a few women, both vampire and human, during the road trip when he was trying to put Buffy out of his mind, but while the sex had been great it couldn't compare to those moments of quiet communion he had shared with his mortal enemy.  
  
He wondered what Buffy was doing right now. Braiding Dawn's hair perhaps, or maybe doing something domestic like laundry. Or maybe painting her sexy little toenails bubblegum pink. He could just picture her, tongue barely poking out from between her lips as she concentrated on sweeping the brush over each tiny digit. He started to harden thinking of that last and his hand crept down toward his groin to relieve the pressure.  
  
"Bollocks! I'm not going to lie about wanking all afternoon," he scolded himself. "I could be with the girl right now."  
  
Spike jumped up and threw on some clothes then started down the tunnel. It was a familiar path from his crypt to the sewer drain near Buffy's house, and a quick dash to her front porch where he sheltered from the sun as he knocked on the door.  
  
No one answered, so he quickly picked the lock and let himself in, proud to note that despite any animosity between them over the last year, she hadn't revoked his invitation. He wandered around the main floor once then climbed the stairs to find Buffy's bedroom - a place he'd never visited outside of his own mind. It was as girly-feminine as he'd expected. He looked at the New Kids poster on her wall, examined her cutesy knick-knacks and photos of friends, spritzed some perfume in the air and sniffed it then pocketed the bottle, rummaged in her underwear drawer and slipped some lingerie in his coat pocket as well. Then he sat on the edge of her bed, testing its firmness. He caressed the depression in the pillow her head had left, then leaned down and breathed deeply at the pillowcase.  
  
Sitting back up, he noticed the piles of envelopes on the bed and began reading through them. There were hundreds of dollars worth of bills, many of them past due, spread across the four-poster. It was something that Spike, not requiring much income, hadn't even considered. Living in the human world was damn expensive and it looked like Buffy was swimming against the tide here.  
  
"Where's her bloody Watcher in all of this? If he's so concerned about 'his' Slayer, then why doesn't he take care of her?" he muttered.  
  
He thought he heard a car door slam and cast a glance at the shaded window behind him, a window he'd never thought to see from the inside looking out. He hurriedly stuffed a couple more of Buffy's personal care items, some fingernail polish and a brush, in his pocket and descended the stairs to wait casually in the living room for whoever might enter.  
***********  
  
".and that's when I told her, 'You pick up those clothes or else!' and she said, 'Or else what?' and I said, 'Just do it, young lady,' and right then I knew I'd turned into my mom."  
  
Willow laughed aloud and then shrieked in alarm when she caught sight of the vampire lounging in the doorway of the living room. "Spike! What are you doing here? You scared the bejesus out of me!"  
  
"How did you get in my house," Buffy demanded, coming up behind her friend, and leveling an accusing stare at him. "I know I locked the door."  
  
"You did indeed, Slayer, and far be it from me to break and enter my friends' domiciles but I was kind of scorching."  
  
"Then why didn't you stay home where it's nice and dank and dark the way vampires like," Willow suggested.  
  
"I come bearing information," Spike said, spreading his hands to show his non-confrontation. "About Glory's minions . thought you might like to know, but if you're not interested.."  
  
"All right, Spike. Sit down and talk," Buffy said, gesturing him into the living room.  
  
"Buffy," Willow interrupted. "I've got to go meet Tara. I'll get back to you about us living here after I talk to her, but I'm sure she'll love the idea. It'll be like a slumber party every night!"  
  
The girls exchanged a brief hug and Willow left without a glance at Spike, who was now sprawled on the couch, arms outflung along the back, legs stretched in front of him.  
  
"You wouldn't happen to have a cold beer around the house would you?" he asked as Buffy turned her attention toward him. "It was flaming hot out there and I'm parched."  
  
"No, Spike. I don't drink. Underage, remember?" she settled on the chair across from him, looking nervous and angry at the same time. "What news have you got for me and how much do you want for it," she asked tersely.  
  
"Oh, so we're back to square one, are we?" He shook his head. "You acting like we didn't share a moment last night and me pretending I help you for money?"  
  
"We didn't 'share' a moment last night and you have been known to take money for information," Buffy pointed out. "And by the way, if one word about ... what I told you should come back to me from another source I won't just stake you, I'll grind you into dust."  
  
"I'll keep your secret Slayer, if that's what's bothering you. There's no need to get all shirty about it," he scowled.  
  
"All right then," Buffy relaxed infinitesimally. "Spill about the minions."  
  
"I caught one last night, slinking through my cemetery," Spike explained. "Collared him and coerced some information. It seems the whole lot of them fell apart without their god to worship and with no chance of returning home. Some left town and the rest got beaten to a bloody pulp when a demon biker gang took over the hotel they were living in. Sounds like we'll have to check those bikers out in the near future."  
  
"Well, that's it then," Buffy was visibly relieved. "Willow and I combed the woods for the Key-seeking knights and there's no sign of them. I can't imagine where else they'd be - it would be kind of hard to hide a whole company of armor-plated soldiers and horses anywhere else in town. I guess since Dawn isn't a threat anymore they took off."  
  
"So we're back to the usual suspects," Spike supplied. "No Big Bad, just the regular assortment of vamps and demons."  
  
"We?" Buffy quirked an eyebrow. "You consider yourself on the team now?"  
  
"Don't you?" he returned. "After all, I did get the stuffing beat out of me for your little sis. That should prove something."  
  
"But what, Spike?" Buffy asked speculatively. "Your motives are still murky. Why do you want to help us?"  
  
"I offered to spell it out for you the other night," he reminded. "You didn't want to hear." He added impatiently, "But you know what? Whether you're ready to know or not, I'm ready to tell you. Ever since your friend cast that spell on us last year I've been all twisted around. I can't stop thinking about you - about us and how bloody perfect it was."  
  
"Oh, my god," she moaned. "Don't...."  
  
He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, willing her attention with his piercing blue eyes. "No! Don't look away from me. It was perfect. You know it was."  
  
"It was a spell, Spike!"  
  
"Doesn't matter. Willow wished us married - not in love. But we were. For that one night at least we were in love, and I want it back."  
  
"Well that's unlikely," Buffy said. "Get it through your head. It was an illusion."  
  
"Not to me," he said quietly. "And what about that other. The last time...?"  
  
"A mistake," she answered promptly. "We agreed it was leftover magic, remember?"  
  
"I don't believe that anymore," he said. "Because it never stopped. I still feel those things." He rose and started pacing in front of her. "I want to be with you all the time. It's driving me insane. Even when I went away I couldn't stop thinking about you."  
  
"Well try harder!" she snapped. "There isn't anything between us. There can never BE anything between us. Please Spike, you know everything I'm dealing with. Can you please not have a meltdown right now?"  
  
He rounded on her. "I'm sorry my feelings are an inconvenience for you. Believe me, they're an inconvenience for me as well. But I can't stop it and I can't change it. I love...."  
  
"Don't...."she pleaded one last time.  
  
"...you."  
  
"...say it."  
  
He fell to his knees in front of her, holding her with his gaze again. "I love you," he repeated firmly. "And it doesn't have to be another burden if you don't make it one. I can help you. I can make things easier for you if you let me. You're going to need extra help with the slaying. You know you will. I can help." He pushed on relentlessly as she shook her head. "You don't have to love me back. Doesn't matter. Just let me be around you and I'll be happy."  
  
"If I let you come around, that's encouragement. And I don't want you to think there's any hope... cause there's not," she explained, finally meeting his gaze. "Do you understand?" She regarded him with serious hazel eyes.  
  
He nodded. "I know. No hope. Got it. But you'll let me help out? Look after Dawn? Beat up evil things for information? Watch your back when you slay? Maybe have dinner now and again?"  
  
"Dinner? What...?"  
  
"Scratch the dinner part."  
  
Buffy was silent a long moment. She felt herself squirming under his earnest eyes and ... losing her willpower to his stubbornness. "I'll think about it. I guess an extra pair of hands will be helpful right now," she admitted. "You can patrol with me and that's it."  
  
"Brilliant." Spike rose to his feet, grinning. "We'll be friends then."  
  
"I don't know about friends. Allies, maybe."  
  
"Fine. Allies."  
  
"Now will you please go? I've been tramping around woods all day and I'm kind of tired."  
  
"Certainly. See you later then?" he pushed.  
  
"No hope Spike, remember?"  
  
"Right. I'm hopeless. I'll just happen to see you if you happen to be out patrolling tonight or tomorrow night. Whenever." His coat billowed behind him as he swaggered to the door. He pulled the battered leather over his head and bounded out into the late afternoon sunlight.  
  
Buffy got up and watched out the window as he dashed from shadow to shadow. She shook her head. Collapsing on the couch, she stretched out on her side and thought about the boatload of worms Spike had just opened. "This is going to be trouble," she thought, remembering what Angel had once told the Scoobies about Spike's tenacious pursuit of his desires.  
  
"He won't stop," she murmured, as her eyes fluttered closed. "Not until he gets what he wants." Her breathing deepened. The frantic start to her day and the long hike in the hot sun had completely worn her out. Soon she drifted off into blessed sleep where reality took a holiday and anything was permitted.  
  
She dreamed of soft lips nuzzling her neck, cool fingers tracing the contour of her hip and thigh and a deep, rumbling voice sending delicious tingles through her just from the tenor of it. She moaned and shifted on the couch.  
  
"You're mine," the voice was telling her. "I'm yours. Forever, remember? We made a vow."  
  
"No," her dream-self whimpered. "You're not the one. Angel. He's my.." She gasped as his hand stroked her through her panties then teased under the elastic for better contact.  
  
"Soul mate," she choked out.  
  
His chuckle of disbelief vibrated against her nipple just before he took it in his wet, wet mouth and began sucking - hard.  
  
"Stop," she thought as she drew his head closer to her breast.  
  
Then, because it was a dream, his clever, wicked tongue was everywhere at once; searching her mouth, licking her skin, penetrating her vagina, and whispering naughty, dirty things in her ear.  
  
Buffy tossed and turned and moaned in her sleep, waking only when she almost fell off the couch. She was panting for air, slick between her legs and aching with unfulfilled need.  
  
She drew a long shuddering breath and let it out slowly, blinking her eyes to clear residual sexual images from her brain.  
  
The front door banged and Dawn exploded into the house like a linebacker tackling a pass receiver.  
  
"Hey!" she hollered. "Anybody home?"  
  
"Uh, yeah." Buffy's face flamed and she shot to her feet, painfully aware of the continued throbbing between her legs and the fact that if her little sister had arrived only a few minutes earlier she would have been confronted with the sight of her legal guardian writhing like a cat in heat. "I was just.. I was taking a nap. I'll, um, get us some dinner now."  
  
"That's okay. I ate with Janice." Dawn studied her intently. "Do you have a fever or something? You look really flushed. Maybe you're coming down with something, what with the fainting and all."  
  
"Too much sun," Buffy said abruptly. "Willow and I were out all afternoon. I got burned." She quickly changed the subject. "How about some ice cream then? I think there's a little left. And a video?"  
  
"Sure," Dawn agreed. "It's my turn to pick."  
  
"As long as it's anything but that inane Scooby Doo movie again," her sister agreed.  
  
******** Willow showed up to help with the garage sale the next day, pink nosed and puffy eyed.  
  
'What now?' Buffy thought uncharitably. After her friend had sniffled and gulped enough times that she couldn't ignore it anymore, Buffy finally asked, "Something wrong, Will?"  
  
"It's Tara. She's furious with me. I did something ... something amazing. Incredible really. Just to make her happy, and she doesn't get that at all. She's being so unreasonable!"  
  
Buffy waited then prompted. "Well? What did you do?"  
  
"I - I brought Miss Kitty back to life," Willow announced proudly.  
  
"You ... who, what?"  
  
"Our cat, you know Miss Kitty Fantastico. You've seen her before. Anyway, she got hit by a car yesterday. Tara was heartbroken. She was crying so hard and I wanted to make her feel better. Then I remembered something I'd read about a resurrection spell. I told Tara to leave the body, that I'd help her bury it after I ran an errand. I went to the Magic Box, found the spell, got together the ingredients, and voila! Brand-new Kitty Fantastico."  
  
"Willow! That's um ... amazing all right. That's huge! You're sure the cat was really dead?"  
  
"Dead as Winona Rider's career," she assured.  
  
Buffy was dumbstruck. "And you think it was a good thing to bring Kitty back?"  
  
"Tara was crying, Buffy. I can't stand it when she cries! The spell didn't hurt anyone, didn't change the course of the world, so what's the big?"  
  
"Well," Buffy fished for something to say that would express her disapproval without alienating her friend. "Does she seem normal? Miss Kitty I mean, not Tara. She's not lurching around like a zombie or anything?"  
  
"No. In fact she seems more hyper than ever. If anything she's kind of zinging off the walls with energy. It's weird."  
  
"Huh," Buffy was noncomittal. "I don't know if I'm the best person to ask about this. Maybe Giles...."  
  
"Oh no. Don't tell Giles!" Willow's eyes were wide. "He wouldn't understand at all. He doesn't even have a girlfriend."  
  
"If you don't want Giles to know, it sounds like maybe you do think there was something wrong with doing the spell, Will," Buffy said gently.  
  
"There was nothing wrong with what I did." Willow's tone suddenly dropped from nervous twitter to icy smoothness. "And I'm not afraid of Giles. Maybe he could learn a thing or two about magic from me!"  
  
"Hey Super-Strength, are you gonna help carry these boxes or what?" Dawn's voice interrupted the blossoming confrontation. She was staggering along, face hidden behind a huge box from which Christmas tinsel straggled.  
  
Buffy gratefully went to her sister's aid, taking the box and carrying it to the sidewalk, and by the time she faced Willow again the young witch had recovered her usual buoyancy.  
  
"I'm sorry to unload on ya, Buffy," Willow apologized as she pulled damp Christmas decorations from the box and laid them in a neat display on a folding table. "I know you have your hands full with worrying about Dawn and taking care of your house and the slaying and all. I'll deal with Tara. She'll get over it and everything'll be cool again. By the way, she said it would be great for us to share your house after the term ends."  
  
Bewildered but relieved by the abrupt shift in Willow's mood, Buffy smiled. "You have no idea what a big help it would be to have you living here."  
  
"No problem, landlord," Willow teased. "I'd rather be paying rent to you than a stranger, plus, you know, Slayer protection against all the creepies in this town. We have to be out of the dorm at the end of May, so we could move in here then."  
  
The subject of the resurrected Kitty Fantastico was evidently closed. The rest of the day drifted by. Buffy, Willow and Dawn sat in lawn chairs drinking iced tea, sunning themselves, sharing tidbits from glamour magazines and occasionally selling a piece of junk rescued from the basement flood. If it hadn't been for the fact that Buffy knew she ought to be down there mopping up water and her constant awareness of the genetic storm brewing in her uterus and Spike's embarrassing protestations of love yesterday and the unpaid bills on her dresser, she would have been quite content.  
  
**********  
  
The next afternoon Buffy slammed through her front door, cast her mail on the overflowing pile covering the little table in the hall and headed straight for the bathroom at a fast clip. After taking care of business, she surveyed herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Her outfit, carefully chosen that morning to reflect maturity and responsibility, was trashed. Who knew going to the bank could be so damaging to the wardrobe!  
  
Buffy examined the bump on her forehead and the gash on her arm, which matched the slash in her beautiful white silk blouse. She turned sideways and shook her head over the slit she had been forced to cut up the side of her skirt. She wouldn't have minded the loss of the clothes so much if she had just gotten a loan for her sacrifice. But evidently saving loan officers from rampaging demons weighed nothing against lack of collateral or a job.  
  
She furrowed her brow as she went over the details of her fight with the ridge-headed demon, which had no business being at a bank in the middle of the day anyway. She should have been quicker. She could have hit harder. She might have chased after it when it fled the building. There was no excuse for letting something that big and clunky get the best of her and escape. And pleading distraction because of the pregnancy or the financial woes was no excuse. She had to get back on her game.  
  
As Buffy passed back through the front hall on her way to the upstairs the breeze from her passing sent the tottering stack of mail sliding to the floor. She cursed as she knelt to pick up the scattered mail, which contained - bill, bill, bill, sweepstakes, bill, catalog and . what was this? From somewhere in the pile a plain white envelope had fallen and spilling from it in an untidy fan were various denominations of bills.  
  
Buffy dropped the rest of the mail and dove for the money. Stacked altogether it was a thick wad that totaled almost five hundred dollars. Her heart was beating in her throat as she picked up the envelope and examined it back and front. There was no writing of any kind. She scrabbled through the rest of the pile looking for a note that might have fallen out. Nothing.  
  
Hands shaking, she picked up the bills again, sat back on her heels and began to count the bounty from her anonymous benefactor.  
  
To be continued.. 


	6. 6

"Still Bound" chapter 6 by BonnieD  
  
Last chapter: Buffy's financial troubles were eased by an anonymous benefactor. Spike revealed his love. Willow raised Miss Kitty Fantastico and upset Tara. Anya proposed to Xander. Dawn was annoying. This chapter: More stuff happens.  
  
Thanks to beta Zyrya for her continued efforts and to all who've reviewed or rec'd this work or its prequel "Golden Bands to Bind Them." I may not reply but am aware of all of you out there and appreciate you very much.  
  
**********  
  
Buffy entered the Magic Box to find Giles and Anya in heated debate over by the cash register and Tara and Willow giggling and flirting at the research table. The latter surprised her. There wasn't any sign of the tension Willow had expressed to her only yesterday. The couple must have had some fantastic make up sex.  
  
"My method works better!" Anya was insisting as she jabbed her finger at the paperwork in Giles' hands. "It's more logical and organized and you're just jealous because I'm a better businessperson than you."  
  
"Now that's patently ridiculous, Anya. I would be hard-pressed to find anyone who could make heads or tails of this ... miasma. May I remind you that I own this store? You must desist from making these changes without consulting me."  
  
Buffy wandered over to the table and sat down across from the Wiccans. "Trouble in paradise?" she asked, nodding her head toward the bickering shopkeepers.  
  
"The usual," Willow shrugged. "Some people just argue all the time." She smiled and covered Tara's hand with hers and they resumed making googly- eyes at each other. Buffy looked away in discomfort.  
  
"How's Miss Kitty doing?" she asked, intently studying the engraving in the book that lay in front of her.  
  
"Adorable as always," Willow said quickly. "Full of vinegar."  
  
"No weird side effects?"  
  
"Huh?" Tara tore her eyes away from Willow's and looked at Buffy in confusion.  
  
"So how did your appointment at the bank go today?" Willow interrupted, shooting Buffy a 'drop it' frown. "Any luck?"  
  
Buffy took her cue. "No. Just a demon." She described the spiny-headed creature that had rampaged through the bank and Tara and Willow began flipping through books looking for it. "Did you know," she added, "that it actually takes money to get money? Evidently I'm too destitute for the bank to take a gamble on."  
  
She didn't mention the anonymous benefactor who had left a packet of cash in her mailbox. It was so like Giles to be all reserved and British about it, not wanting any gratitude. She would thank him privately for his generosity and in a round about way so as not to embarrass him. She looked up at her Watcher, all flushed red with anger and almost shouting at Anya, and felt a glow of warmth. His gift had made her feel so safe and protected.  
  
"Is this the guy?" Willow asked, pushing a book in front of her.  
  
"More human-shaped, less with the tentacles," Buffy said.  
  
"How about this?" Tara held her book up and pointed to the illustration as if reading aloud to a kindergarten class.  
  
"Score!" Buffy responded. "What does it say about him?"  
  
" 'M'fashnik demons are notorious mercenaries hired to perform dangerous tasks for their employers. They are known to be thorough and tenacious in completing their goal.' That's all."  
  
"While I was fighting the creature, I found out later someone was cleaning out the cash drawers. That must have been the goal. So it may be the last we'll see of M'fashnik. I'll have to ask around. See if anybody knows anything about the robbery," Buffy said.  
  
She looked up and caught Giles' eye. He was walking away from his confrontation with Anya, polishing his glasses madly. Buffy beamed at him, trying to express all her gratitude in one dazzling smile. Her Watcher peered at her near-sightedly, slipped the glasses on and looked at her again, then returned a bemused smile.  
  
"How did things go at the bank today?" he asked as he joined them at the table. "Any success?"  
  
Buffy repeated her story.  
  
"M'fashnik! I've heard of them before. It's my understanding that they aren't easy to summon into this dimension. Curious." Giles frowned then shrugged and changed the subject. "But more importantly, Buffy I'm sorry to hear that you've been turned down for a loan. I understand that you're under considerable financial pressure, if there's anything I can do to help...."  
  
Buffy shook her head, still smiling warmly, "Oh no, you've done enough. More than! Thank you."  
  
"Um, yes. Quite." Giles frowned again in confusion and looked for evidence of sarcasm in Buffy's tone, but she seemed quite sincere. He added after a pause, "Perhaps ... perhaps you might be interested in working a few hours at the shop each week. We could use extra...."  
  
"What?!" Anya exploded, tearing out from behind the counter. "Are you firing me? Just like that? After all I've done for you? Worked my fingers to scrawny bones keeping the shelves stocked. Almost suffered a concussion stopping that warlock from lifting the merchandise. This is the thanks I get?"  
  
"Anya," Giles interrupted. "Please calm yourself. I'm not talking about replacing you."  
  
"Oh. Well ... that's different then."  
  
"I said 'extra' help. On Saturdays we're quite busy," he explained to Buffy. "I'm sure we could find work for you. I can't pay you much, but...."  
  
"Work? Here? That'd be ... great," Buffy injected as much enthusiasm into her tone as she could muster at the thought of spending countless sunny Saturdays enclosed in the world of sales and customer service. "I'll be here bright and early with bells on. Just tell me when you want me."  
  
"This week would be wonderful. We have a shipment of rare imported tenucia coming in that will need unpacking."  
  
"Great," Buffy enthused.  
  
"Ooh! Ooh! Idea hatching!" Willow waved a hand in the air. "Xander was talking about being short-handed at work. I'm sure he could use a strong able-bodied body like yours, Buffy. You should ask him. Also, it would only be on weekdays so you'd still be free to help here. Sounds perfect, huh?"  
  
"Perfect," Buffy repeated faintly, hearing the steel doors of the prison of adulthood slamming into place one by one. She thought, 'I may have a few minutes left open in my schedule. You want to fill those too? Maybe a child-development class would be in order.'  
  
"She needs some down time too, sweetie," Tara cautioned her over-excited girlfriend, as she read the Slayer's darkening aura. "Buffy, maybe you'd like to sit in on a class with me sometime this week. You would love my Personal Spiritual Growth and Self-Awareness in Today's Ideologically Negative World course. Ms. Puantajuah is so uplifting and challenging. She really forces you to get in touch with your Inner Being."  
  
Buffy smiled genuinely at Tara' earnest expression. "Maybe a class like that is just what I need. Sure, I'll go with you. And Will," she turned to her friend, "your idea was really great. I'll talk to Xander right away before he fills the position. Really. Thank you. Thank you all." She looked around at her friends' helpful, hopeful faces and felt a warm surge of affection followed by a sudden stomach-swirling bout of nausea.  
  
She leaped to her feet and headed toward the bathroom. "Excuse me," she muttered as she sprinted from the room.  
  
*************  
  
"Eight ball. Corner pocket." The cue snicked against the black ball with authority sending it flying into the designated hole. "That's fifty bucks, mate."  
  
Aware that he'd been hustled but unable to deny his loss, the Abercrombie & Fitch poster boy tossed the money down on the pool table in disgust. Spike scooped it up with a smile. He adored frat boys and all the lovely green currency that rained from their pockets. They kept him in blood, booze and smokes.  
  
As the kid skulked away, Spike racked up the balls and scanned the room for his next victim. But the sheep had all been shorn, at least for this evening. There were no takers, so the vampire glided over to the bar to get a drink.  
  
He eyed the dark-haired man slumped over his beer at the end of the bar. After ordering himself a whiskey, Spike gestured to the bartender to get the guy another round, and then caught the man's eye when he looked up to see who had paid for his next drink.  
  
Harris frowned when he saw it was Spike, but he took a long drink of the fresh beer anyway. Spike strolled over to stand next to him.  
  
"What do you want?" Xander growled.  
  
"Just bein' sociable," Spike said calmly, reining in his intense dislike of the whelp.  
  
"I don't socialize with psychopaths who try to murder me and my friends."  
  
"Now. Now. That's all old history. I'm one of the white hats these days, remember?"  
  
Xander shrugged, too wasted to argue.  
  
"What's wrong? Did the lovely Anyanka dump you?"  
  
Harris' eyes flicked toward him and Spike knew he was on the right track.  
  
"Weren't demon enough for her, eh?"  
  
"Shuddup." Xander took another swallow. "She didn't dump me. Not that it's any of your business."  
  
"But you think she's thinking about it or that she's found someone else," Spike persisted. "Or maybe ... you're thinking about it." The surprised look on the boy's face gave him his answer. "Maybe she's a little too much demon for you."  
  
"Spike is there anything you enjoy more than the sound of your own yapping?"  
  
"Very little," he answered truthfully. "Come on. Tell all. What've I missed on Days in the Basement?"  
  
"I don't live there anymore," Xander said, huffily. "Anya and I moved in together last fall."  
  
"Do tell?" Spike digested that, contemplated a few minutes more and as usual, came up with a spot-on conclusion. "And now she wants the ring, the bridal shower and wedding cake, the kids, the dog and the picket fence," he surmised.  
  
Xander stared at him open-mouthed.  
  
"You needn't be so shocked. It's rather obvious, isn't it? It's what all human women want."  
  
The young man looked back down at his drink. "I guess," he mumbled.  
  
"So what are you waiting for? Take the plunge and set a date," Spike advised.  
  
"Yeah." Xander shredded his napkin and drew his fingertip through the condensation on the bar. "But ... how do you know?"  
  
"Know what?"  
  
"If she's the right girl. Or if I'm the right guy. How do I know I'll make a good husband? How do I know we'll be competent parents? How do I deal with the fact that she's a thousand year old ex-demon in a beautiful girl's body? Do I really know her? Does she really know me? That kind of 'how do you know'?"  
  
Spike sighed. "Look Harris. It's quite simple. Do you ache for her? Does your throat seize up when you see her? Do you feel your insides combusting when she speaks your name? Does she make you feel powerless as an Epro demon and strong as a Fyarl at the same time? Do you want to kill for her one minute and kill her the next?"  
  
"Sometimes," Xander admitted. "Not always, but sometimes ... all of those things."  
  
"Then, you bloody soft-minded git, what the hell are you on about? How can there be any thought rattling around in that empty shell you call a head other than pathetic gratefulness that you are allowed to touch such a goddess. You should be thanking whatever deity a boneless, brainless wanker like you believes in that a beautiful creature like her even deigns to notice you exist, much less gives you her love. Is that clear enough for you?"  
  
"Uh...."  
  
"Let me spell it out. Say 'yes'." Spike caught the bartender's eye and held up two fingers.  
  
Xander continued to tear his napkin into tiny bits as he digested this tirade.  
  
"Maybe you're right," he finally conceded in a low voice. "You're probably right."  
  
"Of course I am."  
  
"I do love her."  
  
"And not to her credit, she appears to love you too," Spike added.  
  
"Yes, she really does," Xander agreed. "I don't know why."  
  
"Neither do I. But you should take advantage in case it's temporary insanity."  
  
"Speaking of insane," Xander looked at Spike with curiosity instead of hatred for the first time ever, "what about Drusilla? How could you be with her for so long, so many years, as crazy as she was?"  
  
"I'm not saying my girl wasn't a challenge," Spike tried to explain, "but all that faded away when I was in her arms. It just didn't matter. All I could think of was trying to please her, to make her happy, she was such a sad little thing underneath it all."  
  
"Spike, she was an insane killer! Like you," Xander sat up straight as if he'd suddenly remembered to whom he was speaking.  
  
"True. She was brilliant at torture and violence but she was also a poet and a seer. She had beautiful visions and she was an amazingly creative lover." Spike spoke thoughtfully, eyes gazing at long past memories. He seemed to have forgotten his companion's presence.  
  
"Creative?" Xander's curiosity and healthy libido got the better of him. "Creative how?"  
  
Spike snapped out of his reverie and he glanced over at his bar-mate. "With vampires sex is all tied up with pain and blood. Very intense and powerful. Dru could make it hurt so good you'd beg 'please ma'am may I have another' even as you writhed in your chains."  
  
Harris licked his lips and leaned in a little closer. Spike smiled inside. The fish was hooked.  
  
"She had this way of twisting your ... ah, but you wouldn't want to hear about that. Your virgin ears would bleed."  
  
"Hey, I'm not so innocent. Anya and I've done lots of stuff," Xander huffed.  
  
"Really? Like what?"  
  
"Things. Adventurous things. None of your business."  
  
Spike scoffed, "I'm not talking about velvet padded handcuffs and tickle-me feathers, mate. I'm talking down and dirty, no-holds-barred torture and mayhem. Your bird like that kind of kink?"  
  
"I'm not having this conversation with you," Xander stonewalled.  
  
"Your loss." Spike shrugged. "Thought you might be able to use a few pointers and all . before the wedding night. You know, just to spice things up a bit. Show Anyanka you've got it in you."  
  
"Got what?"  
  
"A dark side. That little bit extra that keeps a girl satisfied long term. Don't want her losing interest, now do you?"  
  
"What? I . I don't need sex advice from a blood-sucking pervert!" By now Xander was so flustered and red-faced Spike thought he might have a stroke. It was such a joy to watch the boy squirm, he thought he'd play it a little more.  
  
"Well all right then. If you don't want to hear about the Mondrovian love channel technique or the Shumasthra position...." The vampire tossed back his second shot of whiskey.  
  
Before Xander could reply and Spike could launch into his quickly invented and outrageous yarn, Xander's cell phone rang.  
  
"Yeah?" he answered, turning slightly away from Spike. There was a long pause. "Again? Okay. You're sure you're all right? Yeah. I can stop by tomorrow during my lunch hour and estimate the damages. Okay. Glad you're all right Buffy. Dawn too. See you tomorrow."  
  
"Trouble at Slayer Central?" Spike tried to sound casual.  
  
"Buffy's house is trashed again," Xander explained. "Something called a M'fashnik attacked her at home, but she and Dawn are both okay." He took a sip of his beer and shook his head. "Too bad the Council doesn't pay reparation for damages. Buffy's house repairs could be my bread and butter, not to mention a nice townhouse and a new car."  
  
"You help her out for free then?" Spike asked.  
  
Xander gave him a condescending look. "Spike, not everyone is an opportunistic jerk like you. Of course I do it for free. She's my friend and it's my contribution to the slaying."  
  
"Yeah. That makes sense. Now I finally understand what possible value you could have to the Slayer because it certainly isn't your fighting skills."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Slayer's in a bit of a financial bind isn't she?" Spike asked. "Not holding it together so well with her mum dead, eh?"  
  
"I guess not. Why?" Xander looked at him suspiciously.  
  
"I just wondered if her Watcher ever considered that. Has he ever mentioned contacting the Council and asking for a wage for her?"  
  
"Why do you care?" Xander was sitting up straighter and eyeing him even more keenly. The beer haze seemed to have cleared for a moment. "What's your sudden interest in Buffy anyway? Why are you always around? Always helping?"  
  
"Told you. I got nothing better to do. I got to beat up on something to keep me sane and since demons are all that's left for me to damage, well, that's what I do. If it happens to coincide with what you lot are up to then lucky for you, isn't it?"  
  
Xander looked doubtful but turned his attention back to his foamy fresh beer.  
  
"Well, it's been nice chatting you up," Spike said and disappeared like smoke by the time Xander looked toward him again. He blinked and peered around the shadowy bar but Spike had vanished.  
  
He shook his head, "Stupid vampire," and returned to his solitary drinking.  
  
*********  
  
Buffy sat on the back steps of her house, breathing in the cool night air and unwinding from her throw down with the M'fashnik demon. She wasn't tired. In fact, she felt fully charged and firing on all cylinders. And she was really, really hungry. The Lean Cuisine she'd had for dinner just wasn't cutting it.  
  
Her stomach grumbled and she stroked it. Down, beast! As she patted her belly, she thought about what it would feel like in a few more months when there was a hard lump there or a few months after that when it would look like she'd swallowed a Volkswagen. She knew what a prenatal abdomen felt like even if the memory was false. Her mom had held little Buffy's hand against her distended belly in which Dawn was jumping and kicking like a Russian gymnast.  
  
She remembered thinking it was neat but kind of creepy. Like the way her grandma's cat's tail twitched as if it had a life of its own. Buffy used to think the mice the cat had eaten were trapped down in the tail. It totally freaked her out and the baby inside momma did too. She never asked to feel the lump again.  
  
Buffy thought about her mom and how she'd gently and oh-so-carefully explained the facts of life to a pre-teen Buffy, using a beautifully illustrated book and medical terminology. The young girl had smiled and nodded and blushed and endured her mother's tender hug with embarrassment. Buffy hadn't had the nerve to tell her that Jenny Majeski, a ninth grader from down the street, had already explained the facts in much more graphic and colorful terms. That was Mom, sweet but clueless.  
  
And what would her mom advise her if she were alive today? How would she counsel her confused daughter? She probably wouldn't advocate an abortion. As much as Joyce believed in a woman's right to choose, she would earnestly wish her daughter to choose life for her unborn grandchild. Grandchild! The thought rocked Buffy's mind. It gave a suddenly all-too- real solidity to the nebulous cluster of cells floating around in her innards.  
  
Buffy sighed and stopped stroking her nearly flat stomach. A burning cigarette landed on the walk at her feet. She reached out a foot and ground it out, then looked up to catch Spike's head-tilted, questioning gaze.  
  
"Hey," she said, noncomittally.  
  
"Hey yourself." He slipped down onto the steps by her side. "Heard you had yourself an altercation tonight."  
  
She looked at him inquisitively. "You know something about that Fashion demon? What's the scoop? Is my business all over the underworld phone chain now?"  
  
"Naw. I was drinking with my buddy, Xander when he got your call."  
  
"Buddy ... You were with Xander!" She couldn't have been more shocked if the sun had risen green in the south.  
  
"Sure. We're both guys. Crime fighters together and all. Why not a little male bonding?"  
  
Buffy, who could've sworn for a split second that she heard the word 'bondage', choked on her own saliva.  
  
Spike gave her a sharp rap on the back as she coughed and she slapped his hand away.  
  
"Spike, I don't know what your plan is, if hanging with my friends is some attempt to worm your way into my life, but it's ... it's just weird ... and ... and surreal, so cut it out."  
  
"What? You don't want me to be friendly to your friends? Thought we were all working on the same team. Team Slayer. You want me to help but still say outside the loop? Now how much good can I do like that?" His tone was so logical and Giles-like that Buffy felt another shift in the fabric of reality. Of course he was right. Why was Spike, that evil, polluted being, so often right about things? It was really annoying.  
  
"Anyway," he continued smoothly. "I just thought I'd swing by on my way home. See how you were holding up."  
  
"I'm fine," Buffy snapped. "Thanks for your concern." Just then her stomach rumbled loudly.  
  
"Sounds like you're a bit peckish," Spike observed. "You got to remember you're eating for two now. Stop all that salad greens and bottled water nonsense and get some real meat into you. Kid's probably starving already, thinking 'what the hell kind of cheap hotel am I camping out in?'" He surveyed her body. "You still planning on keeping the tidbit?"  
  
"I guess ... I guess I am," Buffy marveled as the realization that her decision had been made swept over her. "I guess I really am. Oh god. I can't do this," she panicked.  
  
Spike tried to soothe her. "Get over the bloody self-doubting, pet, it's boring. Anyone who can protect the whole human race from evil can manage one tiny sprog."  
  
"What have you ever raised besides other demons?" she replied scornfully. "Don't tell me how easy it is! Babies aren't just cute little puppies you can cuddle then leave in their kennel, they're incredibly expensive and take massive amounts of time. Money and time I don't have."  
  
She paused then added, "Though, thanks to Giles, I've now got a little breathing room in paying bills, at least for this month."  
  
"Giles?" He asked sharply, head snapping around to watch her profile.  
  
She nodded, smiled to herself and mused, "He's everything my dad should be. He's helped me in so many ways."  
  
"Oh yeah. A veritable philanthropist is Rupert Giles," Spike scoffed. "He always has your best interests at heart doesn't he?"  
  
Buffy glared. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Nothing. Never mind." Realizing that bashing her beloved Watcher wasn't going to win her favor, Spike segued into a different subject. "So . when you going to tell your mates about Baby Potato Head?"  
  
"Stop calling it stupid names," Buffy said irritably. "I don't know when I'll tell them. I'll tell them when I tell them." She picked at a ragged cuticle and wondered if she'd ever be able to afford another manicure for the rest of her life.  
  
"You'll feel better when it's all out in the open," he pointed out, shifting to the step below hers so he could attempt to make eye contact with the recalcitrant Slayer. "Then your girly-friends can gush and coo and pamper you."  
  
He decided to push the issue that was of most concern to him. "And Giles and Harris can get all manly and protective, maybe even force a shotgun wedding with the soldier-boy if you can find him. You haven't found him, right?"  
  
"Haven't looked yet," she muttered, then pierced Spike with another killer glare. How was it he could engage her in these conversations and force admissions out of her that she never meant to share?  
  
"Not that it's any of your concern in any way whatsoever," she added. "Just frien.allies, remember? We're just working together. Barely acquaintances. Once mortal enemies, in case you've forgotten. So Back Off!"  
  
He fell silent. 'Once lovers,' he thought but suppressed the urge to blurt it out.  
  
After a fidgeting moment, he took his cigarettes out and placed one in his mouth. Taking the lighter from his pocket, he began flipping the lid open and closed.  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes at the repeated annoying snap and click, but she didn't scold him since he'd had the courtesy not to light up. Her stomach growled even louder than before sounding like the start up of the Daytona 500. It forced a smile from both of them.  
  
"You'd better eat now, love," he said gently, trying with all his might not to antagonize her. "Before your stomach devours itself." He stood up then reached down to help her to her feet. Amazingly, she let him.  
  
She stepped up onto the porch and paused, looking down at him. "Why are you always around when I'm miserable?" she asked.  
  
"You're miserable most of the time," he answered.  
  
"True," she admitted. "Well, anyway, uh, thanks. It's good to have someone to talk to whose opinion doesn't matter."  
  
Spike's eyebrows shot up. "Ooh thanks. That's lovely."  
  
"I mean," she stammered, almost blushing. "Who doesn't judge or make me feel like I'm not everything I should be. That's all I meant. Oh, never mind!" She turned and stalked into the house.  
  
He watched her go, smiling to himself. So she didn't value his opinion, who cared. He was the only person she was able to talk to right now and that had to mean something, right?  
  
It would've been brilliant to be able to tell her who her anonymous sugar- daddy really was, but much as Spike loved bragging, he knew she would never accept the money from him and especially not after she found out the various ways he'd secured it. So he'd keep working under the radar to ease her way and make her life more pleasant. Made a fellow feel kind of puffed up and satisfied to be able to take care of his woman, even if she didn't know it or thank him for it.  
  
He started off down the sidewalk with a swagger, finally lighting his cigarette and relishing a lungful of pungent smoke.  
  
To be continued.. 


	7. 7

"Still Bound", chapter 7 by BonnieD  
  
Last chapter: Buffy thought she'd identified her secret benefactor. Willow was naughty with Tara's mind. Spike counseled both Xander and Buffy (not together). This chapter: Everybody sings a lot. Secrets come out. If you've lost track of the timeline, it's still spring even though the events of season six have begun to unwind.  
  
Beautiful beta Zyrya is struggling with her writing project. If you've read "Crash," you'll know that what comes from her pen is bound to be good. If you've haven't read "Crash," do so now (sorry I can't provide a link, ff.net doesn't allow) and then give her encouragement to keep on with her work.  
  
*************  
  
"That's it! Vampires, demons, hellhounds and flesh-eating zombies I can take. That's my job. But this weird time-shifty stuff that's been screwing with my head all week is just too much. I can't deal. And now it's all with the dancing and singing and everyone's making atrocious rhymes!" Buffy entered the Magic Box for the first time since the day that wouldn't end and found the others already assembled and mulling over the latest "virus" to infect Sunnydale.  
  
"I know. I couldn't get my Breakfast Burrito this morning until I'd listened to the complete Ode to the Doublemeat Medley performed by Stan at the drive up window," Xander commiserated. "That was a wacky start to my day."  
  
"Hey, don't knock the Doublemeat. Looks like fast food is in my near career future. I start next week," Buffy said.  
  
"Do you get an employee discount?" Anya enquired. "You and Dawn can eat really cheaply if you work it right."  
  
"Buffy are you sure you want to work for a corporation that is based on the slaughter of innocent animals?" Tara asked gently.  
  
"I'm not saying I'm going to love it," Buffy replied. "But it will get some cash flow into the house while I look for something better." She shrugged. "Anyway, back to the ongoing musical ... what do you suppose that's all about?"  
  
"I've got a theory," Giles began and the others tunefully joined in with their own hypotheses.  
  
*********  
  
Willow held back on the group sing, mortified that anyone might hear her off-key croaking and afraid that the truth about her forgetting spell might come out and undo all the progress she'd made with Tara. She wished again that she had never told Buffy about Miss Kitty's resurrection. If necessary she would perform the memory spell on her friend too, but for now Buffy was so wrapped up in her own life she appeared to have forgotten what Willow had told her. Typical! A spell the magnitude of a resurrection was something to be praised for and all Willow had received was Tara's stunned dismay and Buffy's casual disregard. Thank goddess, Giles hadn't found out. She would have received a tongue-lashing from him for sure.  
  
What was so wrong with her getting better, stronger and more knowledgeable in her chosen field? No one faulted Buffy when she colored outside the lines, refused to follow the Council's orders and used her intuition to solve a problem. But Willow, oh no, she was strictly research girl as far as the Scoobies were concerned. They couldn't see her vast potential. They never even looked for it.  
  
The Research Song was over and Willow tuned back in, hitting the books hard until Tara nudged her leg under the table and suggested going home for a particular volume that didn't exist. Willow enthusiastically agreed and soon the lovers were out in the beautiful, sunshiny day, prancing through the park and falling into their bed together. Tara had such a gorgeous voice, it made Willow's heart race to hear the love trembling in every word of her song.  
  
As she sank between her lover's thighs with a contented sigh, Willow was convinced more than ever that she'd been right to smooth over the little spat between them with magic. Anything that could bring this joy, this bliss, could only be of the good, right?  
  
************  
  
Xander watched Anya go through her nightly beauty regimen; hair receiving exactly 120 strokes with a soft bristle brush, lotion liberally applied to all elbows, knees and heels, and tonight some weird blue herb poultice Tara had given her to reduce fine lines and wrinkles was lathered across her face. Hm. That meant no nookie. Anya wasn't in the mood when she wasn't looking her best.  
  
Xander sighed and shifted back in bed, hands clasped behind his head. This was it. Much as admitting it felt like battery acid in the eye, Spike was right. This was what life was all about: end of a hard day's work and your beautiful honey getting ready to cuddle beside you to sleep, to hold you and be your friend and companion forever and ever.  
  
As he felt Anya's weight settle on the mattress next to him, Xander licked his lips and cleared his throat. "Wait! Don't turn out the light yet. An, I have something I want to say."  
  
Only he didn't say it so much as sing it with growing dismay as each verse poured unbidden from his mouth.  
  
Xander's Doubts "Anya, I have something big to tell ya. I'd really like for you to be my bride. But Anya, there are issues I must spell ya. Things that I keep deeply locked inside.... Like... Did you know I killed my best pal Jesse? Even though he wasn't human at the time It tore me up and shaped my hate of demons. It's really hard to tell you this in rhyme,  
  
But sometimes when we're lying close together And I think, "This is my girl so soft and warm," Remembering the creature that you once were I fear that you'll take back your demon form.  
  
Then there are my issues with my father A man I never want to emulate But I'm told sons often turn out like their fathers And don't know if I can e'er escape my fate.  
  
I also have some problems with self-image Years of getting crapped on helped shape that. And pals like powerful witches and a Slayer Make me feel dumb, clumsy, useless and quite fat.  
  
I hope you understand my hesitation To pledge my troth and walk you down the aisle, Spike said I should just do it and be grateful So I choke my fears and hide behind a smile.  
  
But Anya, I still loooove ya, And will marry you, if you want it too," he warbled.  
  
"This is a proposal?!" Anya cried, jumping up from the bed. "Thanks for nothing, Harris!" She slammed the bathroom door behind her as she left.  
  
Xander was humiliated. He'd truly meant to propose to her. It was horrible to have his deepest anxieties and dreads reduced to a few catchy phrases that couldn't begin to sum up the complexity of his emotions. The snatches of songs he'd heard all over town today suddenly seemed heartbreaking instead of amusing. No one deserved to have their feelings so belittled and dismissed.  
  
He was just damn grateful the song hadn't included a verse about the fact that his deepest buried fantasy included himself, Anya and Spike in a threesome.  
  
**********  
  
The next evening Dawn assured an obviously upset Tara that she would be fine alone, and then watched her friend, clutching some type of dried weed, scurry distractedly out the front door.  
  
Silence settled on the house, magnifying the drip of a faucet and the creak of wood expanding and contracting in the newly repaired stairwell.  
  
Dawn was getting used to the quiet since she spent so much time alone now that Glory was no longer a threat. It would be great when Willow and Tara moved in at the end of term. Half their stuff was already in mom's old room. Dawn would love having them here, especially at night when Buffy went patrolling. Of course, Dawn had told her sister she was way too old for a babysitter, which she was, but it still got kind of lonely and creepy night after night.  
  
Dawn wandered up to her room and, closing the door carefully behind her, got out her Secret Box. It held a jumble of jewelry, old Barbie shoes, a rabbit's foot, special stones, one of Buffy's old lipsticks, shells and sea- glass she'd picked up at the beach, and just lately it held a number of trinkets with price tags still attached which she'd shoplifted from stores all over town.  
  
Suddenly the young girl felt a swelling in her throat. It was that choked up feeling you get just before you bawl your eyes out, but instead of crying she found herself bursting into song...  
  
Dawn' Lament I'm an orphan. No one feels my pain. My sister's the Slayer. Try living up to that! I used to be a Key. At least then I was special. Now I'm nothing and we're really poor besides. If I sometimes take things, can you be surprised? Janice has so much crap, and I have squat. I don't even get a good song. I hate unstructured verse.  
  
Woe is me. I'm a misunderstood teen. Woe is me. I wish I had a boyfriend. Woe is me. I think Spike's really hot. Woe is me. He only has eyes for Buffy. My life sucks!  
  
Luckily her song was cut short as two Howdy-Doody-style minions burst into the room and gagged the teen, then dragged her away.  
**********  
  
Buffy walked toward the Magic Box, hands jammed in her pockets, head down, thinking about what had just happened in Spike's crypt.  
  
Earlier in the week she had told the vampire she was sick of constantly tripping over him and couldn't he please find someone else to stalk. But when he followed her command and actually stayed out of her way the past few days, she found she missed his company.  
  
So tonight she had gone, ostensibly to see if he knew anything about the rampant musicality around town, but actually to check up on him. After inviting her in and settling her with a cup of herbal tea in his ratty old armchair, he had listened to her complain about the time shifting and job disasters she had suffered. He agreed with Giles that it sounded like someone was testing her abilities and said he'd keep an eye out for that black van.  
  
Then unexpectedly, he opened his mouth and began to sing in his sexy, smoky baritone and she listened in amazement while her insides melted into a puddle of goo.  
  
It was a beautiful, simple ballad in which he told her, "I'll always be there for you." And he sang it so soulfully that it didn't seem like an "I'll be watching you," kind of stalkery badness but a promise of fidelity that made her ache all over. Damn! Why did this curse or whatever it was have to involve singing? She was such a sucker for a serenade.  
  
The idea of relying on Spike was very seductive, as overwhelmed as she felt these days. She had to guard against it. Letting him into her life would be bad. Very bad. And wrong. Very wrong. Out from under the spell of his voice it was easier to remember that.  
  
She looked up and found herself already in front of the Magic Box with no memory of walking there. She squared her shoulders, shook off her ruminations about Spike and entered the shop.  
  
Willow, who had also just arrived, greeted her with a smile and started chatting on about the hilarious altercation at a fender-bender she'd witnessed that afternoon. As the people involved in the accident had argued in three quarter time, a host of mimes had waltzed in the background.  
  
"You wanna talk surreal ... I've had nightmares that made more sense!"  
  
Tara came down the stairs from the upper level.  
  
"Baby! I didn't know you were here," Willow exclaimed. "I thought you were spending time with Dawn tonight?"  
  
"I - I was." Tara appeared flustered. "I needed to check something out in one of the books here." She lifted her chin and gave Willow an almost defiant stare.  
  
Buffy looked back and forth between Willow and Tara in consternation. Something was happening. She had rarely seen Tara so upset, almost angry. Anger and Tara were not two things you expected to mix 'n' match.  
  
The fact that Willow didn't ask 'what's the matter' let Buffy know that her friend knew perfectly well why Tara was furious and didn't want to open the subject. It must have to do with that Kitty Fantastico fiasco Buffy decided.  
  
The tense silence held a moment longer and was broken when Giles wandered in from the back room at the same moment that Tara, as if making a decision, asked, "Willow. What is this?" and held out a crushed sprig of dried flowers.  
  
"That?" Willow's voice squeaked and she cleared her throat. "It's just ... I found it and thought it was pretty so I, um, put it under your pillow to, uh, give you s-sweet dreams." Her smile wavered.  
  
"It's not a charm?" Tara demanded, searching Willow's eyes with her own. "It's not part of a spell?"  
  
"N-not that I'm aware," Willow's voice trailed off. Her eyes grew wide and she clutched at her throat. She managed to croak out an 'oh no' before she began to sing...  
  
"I Can Make Things Better" "Tara, I can't lie to you, you always see my heart. I want to keep you happy, never drive us apart. I gave you back the pet you loved. Made her alive and strong. But you didn't want the gift I gave. You told me it was wrong.  
  
Why baby, why is it wrong to show I care? It can't be wrong, when I brought some comfort there. Why baby, why is it so hard to see That I am the magic and the magic is me.  
  
I did a little spell last week, so you'd forget our fight And it worked out so good for us, I'm sure that it was right. Haven't we been happy? Hasn't it been swell? With just a tiny shift of mind I made heaven out of hell.  
  
Why baby, why is it wrong to show I care? It can't be wrong, when I brought some comfort there. Why baby, why is it so hard to see That I am the magic and the magic is me.  
  
A shocked silence followed Willow's revelation. Tara was weeping. Buffy was open-mouthed. And Giles looked ready to burst into an apoplectic rage.  
  
"I am aghast, simply aghast, at your cavalier misuse of magic and ... and manipulation of someone's mind. How could you possibly think your actions were correct, Willow? Had you even taken into account the possible long- range effects of performing a resurrection spell? Had you considered the ramifications of...."  
  
The doorbell jangled as Xander, trailed by a listless Anya, breezed in. "What'd we miss?"  
  
The others looked up.  
  
"Holy Mama, what happened?" Xander asked, eyeing their expressions. "Who's been singing?"  
  
**********  
  
A half hour and a Bill of Rights length Giles' rant later, the door opened again. A goofy looking creature with the plasticine head of a marionette was pushed into the room, followed by Spike.  
  
"My master has the Slayer's sister hostage at the Bronze because she summoned him and at midnight he's going to take her to the Underworld to be his queen."  
  
"What does he want?"  
  
The minion pointed at Buffy. "Her." He abruptly pushed Spike to the side and hightailed it out the door, very quickly for such a top heavy being.  
  
"Dawn's in trouble, must be Tuesday," Buffy muttered. "All right, everyone. I'll go in first. See what this Andrew Lloyd Webber Wannabe is all about. The rest of you can back me up, take care of any of his puppet pals that give me trouble."  
  
There was a murmur of agreement. The accusations, questions and reprimands were put aside as everyone grabbed a weapon from the chest in the training room and followed Buffy to the grand finale.  
  
*********  
  
"...I feed off your need and I feast on your greed. This plethora of rancor is the food that I need. If the truth sets you free, then that's where I wanna be As anger, rage and discontent spill their precious seed. My hunger is filled and my spirit is freed."  
  
As he sang, Sweet tapped danced across the stage where Dawn was ensconced in a high backed, throne-like chair.  
  
"Sorry I asked!" Buffy interrupted impatiently after the third verse. "You live off the trouble you stir up. I get it. Pleeease no more choruses."  
  
"What about you, little miss?" Sweet struck a pose, steepling his fingers and cocking his head curiously toward Buffy. "What's your ditty, kitty? Haven't heard much about what makes a Slayer tick"  
  
"Oh no," Buffy shook her head and backed unconsciously away. "Not going there. There's no way I'm going to start telling all my personal busi...."  
  
Before she knew it, Buffy was facing her friends and belting out her big number.  
  
Buffy's Burden "There's something I've been hiding. I was afraid to tell. But keeping it a secret. Has been a taste of hell. I know you're all my friends and you want the best for me That's why I fear to disappoint and let the truth fly free:  
  
But...  
  
I'm pregnant. Though I know it doesn't show. You'll see I'm pregnant, when my belly swells and grows. And yes it's Riley's. Did you think I was a whore? Don't think I'm careless. Sometimes Trojans lose the war.  
  
Interlude: I'm keeping it even though it's wrong. I can barely take care of myself and Dawn. But this life inside is so precious and sweet To one who brings death to every creature she meets.  
  
So... I'm pregnant. You'll be uncle, grandpa, aunts, I'm really pregnant. Already stretching out my pants. Having a baby, isn't in the Slayer game, But I will love it. And I hope you'll do the same."  
  
When her song was finished, Buffy heaved a huge sigh of relief, grateful that it was over without the revelation of her erotic dreams about Spike.  
  
Everyone but Spike looked shell-shocked, gazing at her wide-eyed. He was watching her with a little half-smile on his lips and nodded approvingly when their eyes met. His earlier advice had been right, of course, Buffy felt lighter and better than she had in the past few weeks now that her secret was unburdened.  
  
The nattily dressed demon began to applaud. "Lovely. Mm-mm. Even you humans must be able to taste the delicious emotions stewing in this room." He smacked his lips with pleasure.  
  
Sweet stood and extended a hand to Dawn, who cowered in her chair. "I think my work here is at an end. Come, my queen."  
  
Buffy started forward, fists raising threateningly. "You're leaving all right, but you're not taking Dawn."  
  
"She summoned me. Gave me a chance to play in your world for a little while. Now I'm giving her the opportunity to play in mine. Besides, she's a pretty young thing." The demon stroked Dawn's long, silky hair and she cringed away.  
  
"I didn't!" she swore. "I never ... Buffy, I don't know what he's talking about."  
  
"My talisman, dolly. Round thing about yea big made of silver with lots of fancy writing on it...."  
  
"Oh. OH!" Xander stepped forward, one hand upraised. "In a little blue pouch. Yeah. I found that when I was unpacking a box at the shop. Oh my god, I did this!"  
  
"What on earth are you...." Giles began.  
  
"I was..." Xander blushed, "thinking about the future. Wondering what I should do. I guess I made a wish while I was holding it. But I didn't mean to or anything," he rushed to add. "And I certainly didn't know there'd be singing and dancing involved."  
  
"What did you wish?" Willow asked. "To be punched in the schnoz? Cause that's likely to happen real soon."  
  
"For the truth," Tara said quietly. "He just wished to know truth, Willow." She gave her lover a hard look.  
  
The demon chuckled at their discord then with a sweeping look up and down Xander's body he said, "Sorry baby, not my type," and turned back to Dawn. "As for you, sweetpea," he sighed with regret as he gave her head a final pat, "we would've made such a lovely couple. Ah well."  
  
"What a lotta fun, you guys have been real swell And there's not a one who can say this ended well All those secrets you've been concealing Say you're happy now, once more with feeling, Now I gotta run, see you all in hell."  
  
As his song ended, he disappeared in a swirl of blue smoke. The group watched as it drifted up to the ceiling and dispersed.  
  
"Wow," Dawn commented. "That was ... something." She turned to her sister. "Buffy...."  
  
"Don't even start." Buffy held up a warding hand. "I'm not ready to discuss this. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. There's been enough sharing for one day."  
  
Anya piped up to anyone who would listen, "You know why this spell didn't affect me, don't you? I mean, yeah I sang and all, but I didn't reveal any embarrassing secrets and do you know why?"  
  
No one asked so she continued on. "Because I don't keep secrets. What you see is what you get. I'm honest and direct and not ashamed of my past like some people." She looked pointedly at Xander. "This should be an object lesson to all of you." She slung her purse over her shoulder and marched toward the door.  
  
Xander looked sheepishly around at them. "I'm really sorry I caused this. Dawn, sorry you got kidnapped ... again."  
  
She shrugged. "Getting used to it. He was less creepy than Harmony, anyway."  
  
With a last apologetic smile and a "You gonna be okay, Buff?" Xander followed Anya's exit from the building.  
  
Red-eyed, Tara gave Buffy's hand a squeeze. "Whenever you're ready," she murmured, "We can talk." Then she too left without looking back at Willow.  
  
"Tara! Wait. I'm sorry," Willow rushed after her.  
  
"Buffy is there anything I can do...." Giles began, walking toward his charge.  
  
She folded her arms over her chest and shook her head. "No. Really Giles, I'm just not ready to discuss it yet. You could see Dawn home for me, though. I want to take care of these dead minions before the Bronze staff comes in tomorrow and gets an eyeful."  
  
"All right then," Giles acquiesced, inclining his head. "Dawn?"  
  
Dawn flounced after him with an angry glare at Buffy as she passed. "You could've told me, you know. I'm your sister for cripes sake. You're supposed to share stuff with me!" She tossed her hair back and walked stiff-legged after Giles.  
  
The Bronze was empty except for Buffy and Spike.  
  
Wandering onto the stage, Buffy sighed and sank down on the throne Dawn had vacated. "Well, that was strange ... and somehow unfinished. I felt like there should have been a big group number at the end there. Weird."  
  
Spike perched on the edge of the stage at her feet. "Know what you mean, love. I thought there might be a final kiss or something of that sort."  
  
"Like 'Moulin Rouge' without the dying," Buffy agreed. "Xander and Anya missed their cue, I guess. And Willow and Tara ... who knows how that will end. I mean where do they go from here?"  
  
"Hm." Spike stood, jumped up on the stage and prowled around for a bit, toying with a mic stand and kicking aside some sheet music that had fluttered to the floor. "'Course," he began, "happy couples aren't popular in today's musicals. But in my day, the fella always got the girl at the end." He stopped behind Buffy's chair, his hands resting on the back of it.  
  
"You went to the theater, Spike?"  
  
"Often." His hands slipped down from the back of the chair to rest lightly on her shoulders. She didn't shrug them off so he began to gently massage.  
  
"Is that where you learned to be such a romantic? Silly Victorian musicals?" She unconsciously leaned back into his strong hands. "How long have you been a vampire now? You should know better. Love never triumphs and the couple always splits."  
  
"Bit cynical for such a young thing aren't you?" he asked, leaning down over the back of the chair so his mouth was near her ear. "Doesn't have to be that way."  
  
She looked over her shoulder at him and found his face was far too close. For a moment she was transfixed by his lips then she sat up stiffly, forcing his hands to drop away from her shoulders. "Doesn't it?" She stood abruptly. "Come on, Spike. Let's take care of business." She leaped off the stage, headed for one of the discarded bodies and seized it under the arms.  
  
He sighed and trudged after her, picking up the heels of the minion. "Rising music and a big romantic kiss would've been more interesting," he muttered as they dragged the super-sized Howdy-Doody out the door.  
  
To be continued.... 


	8. 8

"Still Bound" chapter 8  
  
Buffy's secret is out but before anyone has a chance to deal we move into "Tabula Rasa" territory.  
*********  
  
"So I'm going to be an aunt. Hah," she giggled. "Auntie Dawn." Popping a handful of dry Cap'n Crunch in her mouth, Dawn chewed noisily. She followed it with a big gulp of orange juice, then set the empty glass down with a bang. "Anti-Dawn. Cool."  
  
"Yeah, real cool," Buffy said sarcastically as she rested a hand on her upset stomach.  
  
"You should eat plain toast and tea. That'll help with the nausea," Dawn informed her practically. "That's what Peggy Marick said. You know she was pregnant in eighth grade! Her mom's raising the baby."  
  
Buffy shuddered at the thought of being lumped in with teen moms. It so wasn't her.  
  
"How are you gonna get ahold of Riley," Dawn said thoughtfully. "You have to tell him." She gave her sister an evil look. "You can't wait for some demon to force you to sing it at him!"  
  
"I told you, Dawn, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do yet. I wasn't ready to tell everybody."  
  
"I'm not everybody. I'm your sister!"  
  
Buffy grabbed a dishcloth and started wiping spilled milk off the counter. "Did you do your laundry like I asked yesterday? Willow needs to wash a load so you have to get your stuff out of the dryer if you haven't already."  
  
"Yeah. Sure I did it," Dawn mumbled. "Almost." She picked strings off the banana she was eating and carefully cut out a bruised part. "Buffy, do you think Tara will be moving in too? After last night ... she was so mad and hurt. Do you think they can make up?"  
  
"I don't know." Buffy paused in her cleaning. "Willow's got a lot of 'sorry' to do. We'll just see what happens."  
  
Both girls looked simultaneously toward the stairs, but Willow hadn't risen yet. She had shown up on their doorstep late last night after arguing with Tara for hours. She claimed Tara just needed a little time to think and that everything would be all right soon.  
  
All of the Scoobies were supposed to meet at the Magic Box in another couple of hours so Giles could share some information on a possible new threat to Sunnydale. Buffy wondered if Tara would even come.  
  
"Well, whatever happens between them I hope we can still be friends with Tara. I like her," Dawn bit into her surgically corrected banana. "She's like a sister. Only nice."  
  
Buffy tossed down her dishcloth. "I'll go see if Willow's ready to get up," she said through gritted teeth and left the kitchen.  
  
********  
  
Buffy and Dawn ended up leaving for the Magic Box a little ahead of Willow, who insisted they go on without her, that she would catch up. Pausing in front of the shop door, Buffy steeled herself to face the inevitable questions and sympathies from her friends. Tara, if she were there, would be supportive and sweet. Anya could be counted on to make rude remarks about Buffy's carelessness in allowing herself to get in this position and possibly share yet another detail from her and Xander's love life. Xander himself loved her like a brother and would probably be all protective-guy, with jolly heartiness on the surface and an undercurrent of 'I'm so disappointed I you'. And Giles? Buffy plain didn't want to think about Giles' level of disappointment and disapproval.  
  
Dawn grabbed her arm and pulled.  
  
"Stop dawdling. Mom always said, better to just get it over with - like pulling off a band-aid," Dawn counseled as she guided her big sister into the building.  
  
"Buffy! How you doin'?" Xander's voice was overly hearty and cheerful. "Come sit down." He pulled out the chair next to him at the table. How ya feeling? Can I get you anything? Boy, that was some musical review we had yesterday, huh? I'm still sucking throat lozenges. You want a sweet roll, Buff? Cause I could do a doughnut run if you're hungry."  
  
Giles looked up from a text he was studying over by the ladder to the loft where the Dark Arts books were kept. He managed a tiny welcoming smile before setting down the book, pulling off his glasses and starting to polish.  
  
"You should have a cup of tea. You're looking peaked," Anya added, lifting the pot from the hot plate. "Though these days I think they want you to steer clear of caffeine when you're pregnant, maybe a juicebox....?" She fell silent under Xander's quick glare.  
  
Tara, who was sitting at the table with Xander, also acknowledged Buffy with a gentle smile. Her eyes were red-rimmed and Buffy doubted she had had much sleep the previous night.  
  
"Okay, everybody," Buffy said. "Thanks for being nice and solicitatious or whatever, but I'm not fragile. You don't have to be so edgy and weird."  
  
"That's a relief," Anya replied. "I hate when things are awkward and Xander gives me dirty looks every time I say something he thinks is wrong. What's wrong with saying you're pregnant when you are and everybody knows you are?"  
  
Dawn offered her support. "That's right. The sooner it's out in the open the better."  
  
"All right." Buffy drew a deep breath. "Everything I sang last night was true. I'm about three months along and didn't have a clue 'til just recently. Obviously Riley doesn't know about it and since he left no forwarding, it may take some time to give him the news. And I've thought long and hard about terminating the pregnancy. Don't think I haven't. I know it's terrible timing, if there's anything like good timing for a Slayer to be pregnant, but I want to have this baby anyway. And ... and that's about it. Any questions?"  
  
"Buffy, you don't have to explain yourself to us," Tara said quietly as she rose and walked toward her. "Whatever you want to do is the right thing to do."  
  
"It-it's not completely unknown for a Slayer to have a child," Giles added. He offered Buffy another tentative smile followed by a concerned frown. "However, it is not an easy proposition. There are many ramifications to consider both during the pregnancy and after, not the least of them being your ability to function as Slayer and your personal financial situation. You must give thought to who would raise the child if.."  
  
"Hey, no problem," Xander overrode him. "We'll take over the slaying while Buffy's out of commission and after the little kiddle's born Uncle Xander's babysitting service will kick in. I'm sure all of us will be happy to help out in any way we can!" He gave Giles a hard stare.  
  
"Of course. That goes without saying," Giles backpedaled and struck a reassuring tone. "I may be a bit taken aback by your news, Buffy, but we'll muddle along and find a way to make it work." He slipped his glasses back on and met her eyes for the first time since she'd entered the Magic Box.  
  
"And if Buffy should bite the big one, Xander and I could adopt Riley Jr. . or Baby Buffy," Anya suddenly interrupted. "Of course, we plan to have children of our own, but we would very generously take Baby Buffy into our home and look after her as if she were ours, giving her the same advantages as our natural offspring." She nodded happily at the thought and gave Buffy a wide grin. "So don't worry, you're covered if you get wacked."  
  
"Thank you," the Slayer said drily.  
  
The front door bell jangled and Willow entered the shop. "Hey, everybody. What'd I miss?"  
  
Tara, who was now standing by Buffy and resting a hand on her arm, dropped her eyes and studied the nearby candle display.  
  
"Willow," Giles acknowledged with a nod.  
  
Willow's face crumpled a little at all the disapproving expressions aimed her way. "I...." she opened her mouth, then screamed and jumped to the side as Spike came banging through the door behind her, smoking from every bit of exposed skin.  
  
He was wearing a cap with earflaps, oversize sunglasses and the ugliest orange suit ever manufactured by man. He shed the hat and sunglasses, boosted himself up onto the checkout counter and straightened his tie nonchalantly.  
  
"Morning, all. Or afternoon, anyway."  
  
"What's with the suit?" Xander asked. "Finally changing your style?"  
  
"It's a disguise. There are some gentlemen I'd rather not see just now."  
  
"Of course. You should...."  
  
Xander's head dropped to the table in mid-speech and he began to snore lightly. Spike fell back onto the counter in a dead faint. Anya's cup slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor with a crash with Anya right behind it. Giles dropped his book and collapsed against the ladder before sliding down to the floor. Willow, Dawn, Buffy and Tara all tumbled into individual heaps. In a moment absolute silence reigned in the still, musty air of the Magic Box.  
  
***********  
  
Several hours and a vampire attack later, the besieged group was peering through the blinds at the horrible creatures prowling outside the shop.  
  
"It seems that I'm the one these monsters are after, although why they're calling me 'Spike' I have no idea," Randy said to Joan who was handling one of the pointy whittled sticks with an appraising look in her eye. "I have to lead them away from the others."  
  
"You can't do it alone," Joan protested. "And since it looks like I'm a superwoman of some kind I'd better go with you to protect you." She turned to the shopkeepers, the teenager and the group of college kids. "The rest of you bolt the door behind us. We'll distract the vampires and get them to follow us."  
  
"You're so brave!" Dawn, who may or may not be Joan's sister declared. "I want to be just like you when I grow up. A hero."  
  
Joan brushed a hand over the girl's cheek. "I'm sure you will be. But for now you just keep safe." She looked up at the older man with the glasses. "Take care of her for me?"  
  
"Certainly."  
  
"Couldn't we just call the police or have an ambulance sent from the hospital?" the other shopkeeper, the one named Anya, interrupted. "I mean, there's a phone right over there...."  
  
"Ooh! I remember what to call. It's 9-1-1," the red-haired girl, Willow, proclaimed.  
  
Anya was already at the phone dialing the number. "Can you believe it? Busy! Holy crap, how can an emergency line be busy?"  
  
"Do you really think anyone would believe us or come anyway?" the heavy young man named Xander said condescendingly. "I mean when we say, 'oh yes officer, I've lost my memory along with a whole group of people and there are scary, monster-guys trying to get us,' that'll bring the police running!"  
  
"You have a better idea?" Anya huffed.  
  
"Enough arguing," Joan interrupted. "Anya, you keep trying 911 if you want. The rest of you just sit tight while Randy and I go for help. Okay?" Her tone brooked no argument so everyone nodded dutifully.  
  
"Uh, just a minute, son," Rupert Giles said as Randy and Joan prepared to battle their way out the front door with the stakes they had found.  
  
"Oh, right," the young blond man stepped up to his father and hugged him awkwardly. They separated with a manly clap on the back.  
  
"Take care, my boy."  
  
Randy nodded. He took a deep breath and nodded a second time at Joan, who pulled the door open and launched herself out amongst the vampires. Randy barreled after her with a war cry, head and shoulders down, pushing through the foe like a linebacker.  
  
When he looked up Joan was yards ahead of him, whirling and jabbing with her stake. He saw it pierce one of the fanged creatures right through the heart and dissolve it into dust, the same feat Joan had accomplished in the shop earlier. Randy gasped in amazement and from the foot that had just kicked him in the stomach. He seized the offending foot and twisted, sending its owner spinning around and face down onto the ground. He decided this would be a good opportunity to test one of the stakes for himself, driving it through his opponent's back with a satisfying squelch. Again he was amazed to see the human form burst into a cloud of dust.  
  
But behind his surprise there was also a sense of familiarity to the rhythm of kick-kick-punch-pummel-thrust. Randy found himself grinning as he waltzed through another fight with practiced ease.  
  
"Hey," he called to Joan, "I think maybe I'm a superhero, too! Watch this!" He leaped into the air and came down with a kick to the back of Joan's latest opponent, cracking the vampire's spine.  
  
"Randy, that one was mine!" the girl protested, pushing him out of the way and staking the assailant. "There's enough here for both of us. Too many, in fact."  
  
She was right. The next pair of vampires was already upon Randy. One held him by the arms, while the other practiced tae-bo on his face. Randy took the blows for a moment, then, using the vampire holding him for a base, pulled his legs up and kicked out at the one punching him, sending him backward. He then wrested his arms away from the other vampire's grip.  
  
"Come on!" Joan was beckoning. "Just run!" She grabbed at his arm and pulled him behind her as she pelted down the sidewalk. The couple ran until they had left the last of their pursuers far behind.  
  
Joan finally paused in an alley entrance, leaning against a brick wall and looking up the empty street. "They're gone," she panted.  
  
"You don't think they've turned back and will hurt the others?" Randy asked worriedly. "Or wreck Dad's shop."  
  
"No. It seemed pretty clear that you're the one who had something they wanted," Joan replied. "What have you been getting mixed up in, young man?" she asked with mock severity.  
  
"I have no idea!"  
  
"And why in god's name are you wearing that horrible suit!" she added only half-teasingly. "There's no way I could be dating you. I'd never be with someone who has such lame fashion sense. I'm sure of it."  
  
Randy stopped looking for pursuers and eyed Joan sharply. "What makes you think that you and I might possibly be an ... an item?" he asked with interest.  
  
"An item! I didn't say that. I said we wouldn't be a couple." She looked him over from head to toe. "No way."  
  
"I say, that's a bit rough," he protested. "I'm not that repellant."  
  
"No," she agreed. "It's just the outfit. You're actually kinda...." She examined his cut-glass cheekbones, white blond shock of hair and rakishly sliced eyebrow, then decided she'd be damned if she admitted he was hot. She pushed off from the wall and led the way up the street again.  
  
Randy trailed after her. "Actually, I think it's highly likely we are a couple. I feel ... something. Don't you?"  
  
"Don't know what you're talking about," she replied airily.  
  
"Come on," he moved up alongside her and grabbed her arm. "You're telling me it doesn't feel somehow familiar. You. Me. Walking together in the dark. Fighting things. Arguing with each other. Feels like the most natural thing in the world."  
  
"You're not my type," she continued to protest.  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"I just know."  
  
"Tell you what, let's give it a test run and see if anything feels familiar."  
  
"Give what a test run?"  
  
"A kiss."  
  
"I am NOT letting you kiss me." She walked a little faster but he kept pace with her.  
  
"Then you kiss me," he persisted.  
  
"No."  
  
"Just one. Just once. If it doesn't feel right, if it doesn't feel like ... us, I'll drop it."  
  
"You'll drop it," she repeated, deadpan. "I get the feeling you're one of those types who never drop it even after they've been dropped. That's it. I probably just broke up with you and you still keep harassing me. I should get a restraining order."  
  
"So why were you in my dad's shop?" he asked with a smirk. "Maybe I dumped you and you still keep coming back for more, eh?"  
  
She whirled on him, a comeback ready on her lips, and he stopped it with a kiss. Joan froze in surprise as Randy pressed against her, drawing her body to his and delivering a series of light, nibbling kisses to her lips. She gave a startled 'o' and he took advantage of it, slipping his tongue neatly inside.  
  
She was surprised at how cool he was, not just his hands which she could feel through the thin material of the shirt pressing against her back but also his lips and the tongue exploring her mouth. It was like a scoop of ice cream on a hot summer's day, sliding deliciously around and soothing her own parched tongue.  
  
She didn't think. She just responded and kissed him back. And it was as natural as a hundred percent cotton India wrap skirt. As natural as the supple leather of a Prada shoe. As natural as coming home and finding somebody has left the light on for you.  
  
His hands began to roam down her back as he nestled his groin firmly into her front. Joan found her own hands grabbing at his ass, it was so tight and fine! She pulled him into her even tighter, feeling the manly lump in his jeans rubbing against her feminine mound. She gasped and kissed him harder, their teeth clicking together slightly from her enthusiasm.  
  
Randy groaned deep in his throat and with a twist of hips, thrust against her a few times. He tore his mouth away from hers long enough to pant, "See. It's us. I told you," then was back at her again.  
  
Twined together in a tight embrace, they shuffled back until she was pressed against the wall of a building. His hands braced on either side of her against the plate glass window of a shop. She could feel the cold hardness of the glass against her back and rear. He drew away from their fervent kissing again and looked straight into her eyes. "We might even be engaged," he said breathing raggedly. "I feel like I'm in love with you."  
  
"So where's my ring?" she demanded coquettishly smiling and pulled him back in for another hungry kiss. She moved from his lips to his jawline, then down his neck - until the stupid collar and tie stopped her. She fumbled at the tie with unschooled fingers. "Take this thing off!" she whined. "The jacket and vest too. You look like such a dweeb, honey."  
  
He complied, jerking carelessly at the tie and ripping the silk lining of the orangey-brown coat as he tugged his arm out. Joan helped him with the vest buttons - by ripping it open and sending them flying onto the sidewalk. He looked much better with just the tailored white shirt and open vest, with the bonus that now she could reach his body with her seeking mouth.  
  
He gasped slightly as she licked and kissed her way down the column of his throat and over the hard planes of his chest. The top buttons of the shirt having gone the way of the vest buttons. She pulled her mouth back and ran her hands over that rock hard chest, relishing the way his skin flowed under them - so smooth and again weirdly cool like touching the robes of that marble angel which guarded the Hammermill crypt. And where did that thought come from?  
  
His lids were lowered as he watched her hands roam over him. Pretty black lashes rested against his too-white cheeks.  
  
"Have to get him in a tanner," she made a mental note. "Then clothes shopping and maybe a new 'do. Like the platinum, but need less gel."  
  
As her hands skimmed further down onto his abdomen, popping more buttons on the way, she heard him emit a reverberating growl. It was almost inhuman.  
  
As the growl died away she realized with a shock that there was no other vibration in his body ... like a heartbeat. She slid her hands back up to his chest to make sure. No bah-boom, bah-boom. Suddenly it all came together, the cool skin, the animal growl, he was one of them! She pushed him away.  
  
"What," he asked still grasping for her as she held him at arm's length. "What's the matter, sweetheart?"  
  
"Don't sweetheart me. You're dead! You're one of the undead like those creatures we fought. You're a vampire!"  
  
"Am not!" he protested vehemently. "How can you say that?"  
  
She wrapped his fingers around his own wrist. "Feel that. No pulse. And I distinctly heard you growl just now. Go ahead. Try to change your face."  
  
Still shaking his head in disbelief, he complied. With no effort at all the bones of his face shifted and reformed into hard ridges and a pair of fangs descended in his mouth.  
  
"I am!" his tone was shocked and wondering. "I'm a vampire. But - but why am I with you, helping you?" He looked at her searchingly, feral yellow eyes lingering on the pulse in her throat. "I should be killing you, but I don't want to."  
  
Joan was searching for the stake she had tucked in her waistband. It must have slipped and fallen down her leg while they were running. She was still trapped between the vampire and the building with only an arm's length between them.  
  
"I think," he pondered, "we must be lovers, two mortal enemies tied together by the bonds of love."  
  
"Ridiculous," Joan murmured looking up at him. But she was suddenly taken with the idea and couldn't resist adding, "unless . unless you were a vampire with a soul, on the path to redemption all for love of me."  
  
It was Randy's turn to scoff. "Vampire with a soul? Now that's ridiculous. No. I see us more as dark and light, yin and yang. I reach for your purity and you embrace my evil." Here Randy took a moment to give the word 'evil' a double meaning as he thrust his tongue against his fangs and stroked the bulge in his jeans.  
  
Joan rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Randeee. The point is you go against your nature to prove your devotion to me - Super Vampire Killer Girl. There's a word for that, you know: pussy-whipped," she teased.  
  
"I'd like to do more than whip her," the vampire growled as he eyed her crotch. "Wanna find out what?"  
  
"Get over yourself. You were perfectly normal 'til you found out you were a vampire. Why do you have to act like that? Like you're some kind of Big Bad?"  
  
"Isn't that what the evil guy does." He sounded perplexed. "How should I be?"  
  
"Just be yourself, like you were before." Joan had dropped her arm by now, instinctively aware that there was no threat from this creature before her. "Quit posturing and convince me you're sincere."  
  
He slipped back into his human guise and took a tentative step toward her. Lifting his hand he brushed back her hair sending a shiver down her back. "Like this?" he asked, leaning slowly in for a gentle, lingering kiss. "This how you like it?" He kissed her again.  
  
"Just like that," she whispered after a moment, sliding her hands up to his shoulders.  
  
Joan was released. Some deeply buried part of her was telling her things about shouldering responsibility and going against nature and fulfilling a destiny, but she didn't understand those things. Wasn't even interested. All she cared about was living this moment and she accepted the star- crossed lovers scenario without another word, without question or hesitation.  
  
She resumed kissing the undead anti-hero with passion, wrapping her body around his until there wasn't a finger's worth of space between them anywhere.  
  
He responded in kind, running his hands down her back and cupping her ass firmly as he drove against her through two sets of clothing. She groaned low in her throat from the friction.  
  
Suddenly Randy drew back, "I have just one question," he said, regarding her with serious blue eyes.  
  
"Yeah?" she murmured breathlessly.  
  
"Do you think my dad knows what I am?"  
  
********* Back at the Magic Box the rest of the gang was wading through rabbits and battling a group of skeleton warriors, as Anya, standing on top of the table, proclaimed the words of a spell in halting Latin.  
  
"It's not working! Just because you work at this shop doesn't mean you know a thing about magic. Look at the mess you've made already," Willow yelled over the melee as she snatched the book from Anya's hands. "You're a retailer!"  
  
She flipped pages looking for anything that could correct the chaos.  
  
"And we still don't know who we are," Dawn shrieked as she threw a jar of some round objects which looked suspiciously like eyeballs floating in alcohol at one of the attackers. "We were better off with the vampires. I wish that girl Joan was here."  
  
Giles and Alexander were back-to-back, swords flashing in opposite directions, but they were barely keeping the skeletons at bay. Meanwhile ominous gray clouds were forming against the ceiling above them.  
  
"You'd better find something quick!" Alexander yelled. He noticed the shopgirl, Anya, screaming in terror as yet another rabbit poofed into existence right next to her foot. Instinctively he started toward her, dueling his skeletal opponent as he backed toward the table. Then he tripped over a rabbit and fell to the ground where he was almost beheaded by his attacker's blade.  
  
Anya, with a final scream, kicked the rabbit off the table and straight into the head of the skeleton that was hacking at Alexander. The bunny bounced off the skeleton's head, landed and hopped away. Alexander crab- scuttled backward and Anya reached down from her perch on the table and hauled him up by the collar to his feet.  
  
Meanwhile, Tara pushed her way to Willow's side and peered over her shoulder at the magic book. "What about this?" She pointed.  
  
The two women recited the words together, "Severus finite, Redondo venite." They joined hands and lifted them slowly as power coursed through their bodies and poured out into the room.  
  
Giles' sword thrust through open air as his nemesis disappeared. The momentum carried him forward into a bookshelf into which he impaled the sword. Books bounced from the upper shelves onto his head.  
  
Anya was hurling books at the skeleton that had continued attacking Alexander. When his opponent disappeared, the book sailed across the room right into Dawn's face. The teen screamed and clutched at her nose.  
  
Xander staggered sideways, regaining his balance after the skeleton he was fighting abruptly released him. His foot cracked down on a small black crystal, grinding it into shards.  
  
In that instant the spell was broken.  
  
**********  
  
Buffy woke with a start to her memories and the fact that Spike's fingers were buried deep inside her and his mouth was latched wetly onto her nipple. Spike's memories must have come back too because he froze in his movements, fingers stilling, mouth ceasing its suckling.  
  
He was crouched before her and she was braced against a tree in the park where they had moved after their play became too down and dirty for the sidewalks of Sunnydale. From momentum her pelvis thrust against his hand once or twice more before she forced herself to still as well.  
  
Still clinging to her breast, Spike turned his head and looked up at her quizzically before disengaging his mouth with a pop to enquire, "Buffy?" She knew from his tone and the questioning head tilt that he wasn't verifying her identity but asking permission to continue. As her mind retreated from him, her body betrayed her, still reaching for his touch. She grasped his shoulder.  
  
He smiled that infuriating smile of his at what he took to be encouragement and bent toward her breast again.  
  
"No," she whispered, and her pull turned into a push. She tightened her hand on his shoulder, shoving at his arm, rejecting his fingers so firmly and deliciously entrenched in her depths. "Off, Spike," she commanded. He removed his fingers from inside her but stroked his hand slowly up over her belly, continuing to give her that begging look.  
  
"Buffy," he breathed again almost soundlessly.  
  
She shook her head. "No," she repeated more forcefully. "I mean it, Spike."  
  
"You're killing me," he groaned, rising to his feet to face her. "Please Buffy, just be Joan again and I'll be Randy. No one else has to know."  
  
She stepped back from him, pulling at her gaping blouse. "No. Whatever the hell happened to us, it's over now. It wasn't real."  
  
He stepped toward her and reached for her and just for a moment Buffy thought she was going to have to punch him in the face to prove her sincerity. But with a heavy sigh and a pouting lower lip, he gently tucked her breast back into its lacy bra cup and began buttoning her blouse. "Whatever you say, love," he said quietly.  
  
"I'll do it," Buffy thrust his hands away and continued to put herself back together, buttoning and tucking furiously, refusing to meet his eyes.  
  
"We'd better go back to the Magic Box and check on the others; see if we can figure out what caused this," she muttered, setting off through the park at a brisk pace. Spike followed moodily along behind.  
  
**********  
  
Later, after everyone had had a turn yelling at Willow and they were leaving the Magic Box in varying degrees of indignation, Spike passed Buffy on his way to the door. He leaned in toward her and murmured, "We can play Randy and Joan anytime you like, pet, just let me know," then drifted out.  
  
Even later that night, alone in his crypt, Spike made himself a bourbon and blood cocktail and dropped down into his armchair to stare blankly at the TV. He pondered which woman he'd rather kill for jerking him around, Willow or Buffy. If the little witch messed with his head one more time, he'd find a way to end her.  
  
As for Buffy, well he couldn't strictly lay blame for the on again-off again sexual vibes at her doorstep. She had told him clearly enough that she wanted no relationship with him and it wasn't her fault the witch's mojo had clouded her thinking, but..  
  
He sat up straighter as a singular thought struck him. Without the trappings of responsibility that went with being the Slayer, Buffy had been ready to tumble for him like a house of cards. So there must be some feeling underneath her icy exterior, right? On some level even she recognized the elemental chemistry between them. It was only a matter of time before those chemicals combusted into an all out explosion, and for that he could wait.  
  
Spike leaned back in his chair again, half closing his eyes as he stared at the flickering image of Mr. Brady dispensing wisdom to his children. Time was something he had plenty of. Yes, he could wait.  
  
To be continued..  
  
Note: For those who still feel Spike is too coldly calculating in his approach to winning Buffy in my story, I try never to forget that as a vampire he thinks in terms of pursuit and conquest. Fluffy, warm feelings like the ones they shared on the honeymoon in Vegas are foreign to him. He's trying to fit his feelings for Buffy into a framework he can comprehend as a hunter. Doesn't mean he doesn't love her in his own warped way. 


	9. 8

"Still Bound", chapter 9  
  
Time passes. Spike continues to financially support Buffy secretly and to befriend her friends.  
  
"Bloody caterwauling is what it is," Spike complained as the final contestant on American Idol histrionically emoted her song. "Listen to her. She has no more tonality than...."  
  
"How can you say that? She's got a gorgeous voice, way better than that guy, what was his name? Casey or Jacey, something like that," Dawn interrupted.  
  
"The whole concept is flawed anyway," Willow opined. "How can you compare male and female singers at all? It's like apples and oranges, two entirely different things."  
  
"And look at the way she throws herself about," Spike continued. "The judges place far too much importance on stage presence and not enough on actual musicality. That other girl, Rhianna had a much better voice but she's too restrained for that lot."  
  
"Like you'd know about 'musicality' and 'tonality', Mr. Music-died-with-Sid- Vicious. I haven't heard one of your '80s punk 'classics' that wasn't a load of screaming crap." Dawn pushed Spike's shoulder with her knee and he lightly slapped her leg.  
  
"We agreed last week," Willow admonished, giving both of them a stern look. "No violence during American Idol no matter how stupid someone's opinion is." She grabbed the popcorn bowl from the coffee table and settled back into her corner of the couch. "Besides I'm sick of hearing the same arguments week after week. Spike always complains about pop music. Dawn always thinks it's the pinnacle of entertainment. And I'm tone deaf so it all sounds about the same to me. Can't we watch something else?"  
  
"NO!" Spike and Dawn cried in unison as they both reached for the remote that was laying on the couch between Dawn and Willow. Dawn got it first and clutched the precious black device close to her heart, while Spike settled back into his place on the floor with a disgruntled mutter.  
  
"If you hate it so much, Red, why don't you do something else? We don't require a babysitter. You could go out, you know. Find another little bird to nest with."  
  
"I don't want to," Willow moped. "I'm not interested in.... Besides, what about you? Why aren't you out fighting demons or drinking or playing poker or ... or doing whatever else it is that chipped vampires do? You've got nothing better to do than hang out with us?" she challenged him.  
  
"Nothing pressing," he answered truthfully, leaning over and wresting the popcorn from her grasp.  
  
"Have you talked to Tara lately?" Dawn asked Willow tentatively. "'Cause, you know, I'm sure she misses you too. When she took me out to the movies Saturday afternoon I told her how good you were doing with the no magic and all. She was really glad. If you called her I know she'd be happy."  
  
"Really?" Willow's expression brightened.  
  
"For sure. You just have to make the first move. I know she'll forgive you."  
  
Spike snorted. "And if she doesn't you can magic her up again 'til she thinks you're Liv Tyler, Halle Berry and Catherine Zeta Jones all rolled into one."  
  
"Hey!" Willow frowned and threw the couch pillow at Spike's head, successfully knocking the popcorn bowl from his hands and all over the floor.  
  
"Great! Now look what you've done. Clumsy bint," he growled as he retrieved popcorn kernels from under the couch and tossed them back in the bowl. "Truth stings, doesn't it?"  
  
"I wouldn't.... I don't.... Not anymore. Not since the thing with Dawn. I get it now. There's a time and place to use magic and messing with your friends isn't one of them."  
  
Dawn rubbed her cheek, still feeling conflicted about Willow's help with her acne problem. As pissed as Buffy had been, Willow really had fixed Dawn's face that evening, giving her a pristine complexion for the school dance. And because of it Ryan had danced with her and everything. For Dawn that had been worth what came after. It's not like Willow had known what the side effects of her spell would be. She was just trying to help.  
  
"So you've learned your lesson, have you?" Spike continued, his tone turning vicious. "A mess of boils on Dawn's face and you finally realize that magic is all about cause and effect; that every magic action requires a payment?"  
  
"I just told you I get it, didn't I?" Willow's voice was cold and calm and kind of scary.  
  
"Well, time will tell, won't it?" Shoving the half-filled bowl of fuzz covered popcorn at her, Spike jumped to his feet. "Clean up your own mess, witch. I'm going to see if Buffy needs any help patrolling after work." He stalked off, popcorn crunching under his boot heels.  
  
Dawn flinched as the door slammed. She sighed. "Why do our TV nights always end up in a big fight?"  
  
"Because Spike is a stupid, insensitive jerk, who doesn't know when to keep his fat mouth shut?" Willow offered.  
  
"Could be," Dawn agreed. "He is a little moody." She scooted off the couch and bent down to pick up more popcorn. Willow quickly joined her.  
  
"Dawn?" she asked after a moment. "You know I didn't mean to hurt you with that spell, right? I mean, it was only a simple glamour. I didn't think it would...."  
  
"You've already said you're sorry about fifty zillion times, Willow, and I've already forgiven you twice as much so wouldya drop it!" Dawn added, "Unless you want to bake more cookies...."  
  
************  
  
Spike could smell Buffy coming long before he could see her, the stench of sweat and burger grease making his sensitive nose crinkle. He clocked along the pavement with big strides that quickly took him to the cemetery which was her shortcut home. Leaping lightly over the stone wall, he crept among the tombstones playing his favorite cat and mouse game. Of course, he was never sure if he was the cat or the mouse, since Buffy usually called him out long before he had a chance to sneak up and jump her.  
  
"Gonna have to do better than that, Spike," she drawled, twirling a stake in one hand as she sauntered along. "You sound like a herd of buffalo."  
  
"Do not," he sulked, coming out from behind a crypt and falling in step with her. "I'm stealthy as ... as...."  
  
"As a shadow? Hah. Only if the shadow had size 14 feet and wore big clomping boots." She smiled at her own quip.  
  
"Well, you're in fine form tonight for someone who just worked an eight hour shift in a grease factory. Feeling better, love?" he enquired.  
  
"Yeah, actually," Buffy sounded surprised, "I feel great lately. All full of energy again and ... and starving. If you have anything besides a Doublemeat medley on you, something chocolate for example, I swear I'll drop to my knees and ... uh ... well, I'd thank you anyway." She flushed.  
  
"Just so happens," Spike said drawing a Hershey's with almonds and an apple from his pocket and tossing them to her.  
  
"Eat your fruit first," he admonished as she tore into the candy wrapper.  
  
"Mmm, this is so good," she mumbled through the chocolate, her eyes falling closed in rapture. Spike swallowed hard as her tongue darted out to lick a smear of chocolate from the corner of her mouth.  
  
"How was work today," he asked, dragging his eyes away from her lips.  
  
"Same old," she shrugged. "No old ladies tried to kill me, so I consider that a plus. Health inspector was in and he didn't look too pleased with the deep fryer. I smell a citation coming."  
  
"You need to quit that place," Spike said. "The fumes alone could be toxic to the little one. You can do better."  
  
"Tell you what, you find room in my schedule between working, slaying and taking care of the house and Dawn to go to some job interviews and I'll show up. Of course, when they find I'm a college drop-out with no skills whatsoever except beating things up and accessorizing, I'm sure I'll have businesses throwing job offers at me."  
  
"Don't sell yourself short, Buffy," Spike gave her the serious eyes and head tilt, which always made her pulse quicken. "You're graceful and quick witted and charming when you want to be. You just need more self confidence."  
  
Uncomfortable under his gaze, Buffy shrugged and turned away. Perching on a gravestone, she devoured the rest of the candy bar and the apple, while Spike continued to alternately watch her and pace about restlessly.  
  
When she was finished he asked, "So, you up for a little rough and tumble?"  
  
"What?" Her eyes widened.  
  
"I heard from a source that a Hrathlok demon has taken up residence in the caves north of town. They can be nasty buggers and they breed like rabbits. You might want to put a stop to it before we're overrun with 'em."  
  
"Oh." She relaxed. "Sure. I suppose I should. It's a long walk, though."  
  
"Could take my car," Spike offered. "It's parked not far from here."  
  
Buffy remembered the last time she'd ridden in his car, when the wedding ring fiasco was still ... fiascoing. The idea of sitting in the Desoto again, like a couple on a date - a date which involved demon-slaying and barbed banter - made Buffy uncomfortable. Still, it was just a car ride. Nothing of a sexual nature had passed between them since the Randy and Joan incident, and anything that would save her aching feet was good.  
  
"Sure. That'd be fine," she agreed.  
  
"Meet me at the street by the west gate. I'll bring it around," he said and dashed off before she could answer.  
  
As she meandered toward the pickup point, Buffy wondered again if she was encouraging Spike in his little crush by letting him help out and hang around the house all the time. She wasn't quite sure how it had happened, but their relationship had moved from an occasional patrol together to a daily routine and now Dawn was inviting him to TV nights at least twice a week and Spike was sitting in on their Scooby planning meetings without even Xander questioning it!  
  
Part of her knew all this was wrong, that she should put the brake on while she still could before there was a major freeway pileup. Trust in Spike? Only disaster could come of it. But the days drifted on and it was so much easier to accept his help and his presence than to fight him. He wouldn't go away no matter what. He'd keep badgering her and skulking around, so she might as well make use of him.  
  
When you considered it, her situation with Spike was kind of like Frodo and Gollum in The Two Towers, Dawn's current favorite movie. Gollum was pleased to serve Frodo. It gave purpose to his miserable life. Only, unlike Spike, Gollum didn't have a barely concealed desire to jump Frodo's bones - or did he? Come to think of it, there was a lot of homoerotic subtext in Lord of the Rings.  
  
The blare of a horn startled Buffy from her musing. She passed through the cemetery gate and caught sight of Spike's big black beast; engine rumbling so loud the whole frame shook, smoky gray exhaust belching from the tailpipe. With a sigh, she took hold of the handle and wrenched open the heavy door. Beer cans, an empty blood pack and a Snowball wrapper came spilling out. She realized the wrapper must be from their Vegas journey over a year ago  
  
She slid into the front seat. "Jeez Spike, do you ever clean this thing?"  
  
"Nope." He put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb with a squeal of tires.  
  
As they sped along, Buffy's fingers clenched the seat cover in fear of his reckless driving, Spike pulled a can of juice from his pocket and tossed it to her. "Thirsty?"  
  
"Thanks," she said, pulling the tab and downing it in several gulps. The moment the can was empty and she noted that he had pulled a beer from the other pocket, a thought occurred to her. "You didn't pay for these, did you?"  
  
Spike scoffed. "No. Didn't need to. I have an arrangement with the guy at the Speedie Mart. He gives me free stuff and I offer him personalized protection from some of the more dangerous elements in town. It's a symbiotic relationship."  
  
Buffy puzzled that one out. "Like the corrupt cops in the movies," she finally deduced.  
  
"Like a vampire who needs to survive without hurting anyone," he corrected.  
  
"It's a payoff!" she said indignantly.  
  
"It's good business!" he replied. "Buffy, I'm working as best I can within your white hat rules here. Cut me some slack."  
  
She fell silent and looked out the window.  
  
The silence dragged on for several minutes.  
  
Clearing his throat, Spike ventured, "So, you picked out any names for your sprout yet?"  
  
"I like 'Lindsey'," Buffy said.  
  
"You did say that ultra-thingy told you it was a lad, right?" Spike asked, "'Cause you better expect years of nosebleeds and black eyes if you saddle the kid with a name like that!"  
  
"Oh and I suppose you have a better idea? Something classy and intelligent like ... Rocko? Or maybe Butch?" She rolled her eyes at him.  
  
"Both manly names," Spike agreed. "But I was thinking more along the lines of Jack. Simple. Straightforward. It's a good, solid name for a boy."  
  
Buffy shrugged. "I like Lindsey."  
  
She resumed staring out the window, and in a few minutes the throbbing engine of the car lulled her into a light doze.  
  
In her dream Spike was feeding her. He was feeding her luscious, cool, mint chocolate chip ice cream, not from a spoon but from the end of his finger.  
  
"Good?" he asked, grinning as she sucked his finger long after it was ice cream free.  
  
"Mm hm. Need more," she moaned.  
  
He reached into the tub that rested on his naked lap, unfortunately hiding his goods from her view, and scooped up another healthy mouthful.  
  
Buffy opened her mouth and extended her tongue, but before she could accept the treat he dropped it on her chest.  
  
"Oops," he drawled, "Guess it's my turn." He bent down to lap at the cold nugget that was sliding down her hot skin, leaving a sticky, melting trail behind it.  
  
She smiled and threaded her fingers through his hair, caressing his scalp.  
  
"Off, puppy," she said after a moment when he continued licking beyond what was necessary. "I'm hungry. Feed me!"  
  
He obligingly sat up and fed her another fingerful of minty sweetness. It was so good and she was so HUNGRY. And she wanted to know what it would taste like if she ate it off other parts of his body.  
  
With a snort, Buffy jerked awake. Naughty, sexaholic Buffy, she chastised herself. Why did her dreams all revolve around food and sex lately? Her sleepy eyes flicked over to Spike, but he was fully clothed, humming to himself and tapping the wheel as he stared through the windshield at the rushing darkness.  
  
Again her eyes drifted closed and her forehead pressed against the window. This time she was only half asleep, and memory and dream were all jumbled together.  
  
It was the infamous 'honeymoon' night. They were twined together sharing post-coital bliss. Spike's hands were running restlessly up and down her body, over her arms, across her face. He seemed determined to touch every inch of skin to verify the truth of her in his arms.  
  
"I can't believe this is real," he murmured against her hair.  
  
"It's real," she confirmed. "And it's forever."  
  
"Forever," he repeated reverently, then added bitterly. "Forever until you die, you mean."  
  
"Everyone dies, Spike."  
  
"I don't." He paused, stroking her back and resting his lips against her forehead, bestowing a thousand tiny kisses. "And I won't let you, either," he promised fiercely.  
  
Buffy shifted uncomfortably at his words. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Relax," he chuckled. "I'm not offering to turn you if that's what you're thinking. You wouldn't be my Buffy then. But you will live longer than any Slayer ever. I will keep you safe and whole until you're such an old woman you'll be embarrassed to be seen with me."  
  
"Oh, that's a pleasant thought," she said. "Ninety year old Buffy and her studly, young gigolo. Yuch!"  
  
"I won't care. I'll worship every wrinkle in your leathery face," he teased. "And when you finally go I'll go too. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust."  
  
"What about after?" Buffy mused. She tilted her head and looked up into his eyes. "Where will we be then?"  
  
"You asking me about heaven 'n' hell?" He held her even tighter and returned her serious gaze. "I don't know." He shook his head. "I really don't know."  
  
She tucked her face against his throat and hugged him fiercely.  
  
"But wherever I am, I will always love you," he promised solemnly. "Always...."  
  
"Hey!" Spike's real voice tore away the veil of sleep and Buffy sat bolt upright.  
  
"We're here," he explained. "You awake enough to tackle this or what?"  
  
"Yeah," she snapped. "Yeah, I'm fine. Jeez. Just give me a minute, all right?"  
  
She rubbed her hand over her bleary eyes and focused on the cold, dark night around them. For a moment she felt a physical pain at the loss of that warm cocoon of sheets and blankets and Spike's arms around her on that tawdry motel bed. It had felt so real. She shot a glance over at him and he was looking at her with concern.  
  
"You sure you're up for this? Cause we can come back another...."  
  
"I said I'm fine! Just point me in the right direction." She grabbed the door handle and pushed open the door with a wrenching creak of hinges. "Come on. Let's fight."  
  
***********  
  
After a rousing good tussle and laying the wiley Hrathlok to rest, Spike drove Buffy home. He bid her goodnight and she responded distantly before closing the car door and walking up to her house. Then Spike's real mission for the evening began.  
  
Every three or four weeks he had provided Buffy with the money to help pay her bills. The silly bint still thought it was Uncle Giles' generosity in those unmarked envelopes, which burned Spike no end. But he still worked for her anyway, reveling in the role of unrecognized benefactor. There was always that damn Victorian poet in him, heart swelling at noble, selfless gestures. Downright sickening, is what it was.  
  
Tonight he was several hundred short of where he'd hoped to be this week, knowing that Buffy still had a huge plumber's bill to pay. It was time for another round of shakedowns and break-ins. Spike cast away his white hat and firmly jammed his metaphorical black hat down over his ears.  
  
First stop on his circuit was the U-Lock-It on Fourth Street. Usually the bays held very little of value, just households in transition and Grandma's estate, but sometimes you could hit a gold mine. Spike knew just where to strike that gold. Parking his car several blocks away, he approached the storage units from the rear, located number 12 and, using vampiric strength and a pair of humongous bolt cutters, quickly entered his target.  
  
In addition to demons and other supernatural predators, Sunnydale had its share of human burglars and miscellaneous criminals. Spike had his finger on the pulse of both halves of the underworld and knew that the contents of a wealthy home on Barton Blvd. now resided in U-Lock-It number 12 waiting to be fenced. No one was going to complain to the police about a few missing items. Although he must be careful of humans, given his disability, Spike thought the robbing from the robbers angle was fairly clever and safe, not to mention rather satisfyingly ironic.  
  
It was certainly safer than the last time he'd flashed fang at a convenience store intending to clean out the till and gotten a shotgun to the head instead. He had been forced to back down and hightail it from the store, and Spike hated backing down. Sure, a shot to the head wouldn't kill him, but it would take a helluva long time for a vamp to come back from that kind of trauma.  
  
Once inside the unit Spike busily puttered around gathering smaller pricey objects and putting them in his pockets, then selecting the larger items he could easily sell to Clem. Within minutes he was back out, over the fence and into his car with the merchandise.  
  
On to stop number two.  
  
Most demons had little that would be considered of value in the human world, but vampires were a different breed. Spike knew many who, like old Angelus, enjoyed living in stylish comfort. Minions and fledglings were of no use to him and it required going a little farther afield to find his quarry. Luckily he had a mate from the old days who lived only a town away and was going to be Buffy's meal ticket for the month.  
  
A few years older than Spike, Alexei Baranzykov was an old country anachronism living in the U.S.A. In one hundred and forty years he had made no effort whatsoever to adapt to the time or place in which he lived. Spike often wondered why he'd left Russia at all, since walking into his lair was like touring the palace at St. Petersburg. Religious icons and ornate crosses adorned his velvet-flocked walls. One had to be careful not to brush against anything that singed.  
  
Spike had met Alexei during Spike's first go-around in Sunnydale, when he was laying low after the debacle at the high school. They had met over cards and became as friendly as vampires ever did with one another. Spike enjoyed Alexei's acerbic wit and well-read sensibilities. They spent hours discussing the intricate worlds and words of Doestoevsky until Drusilla would wander in, tremulously complaining about Spike's lack of attention.  
  
Alexei was the only person Spike had ever met who 'got' Dru. He treated her with a courtly respect and listened in fascination to her visionary ramblings. He believed every word she uttered had significance if one could but unlock the symbolism.  
  
Spike had truly appreciated the companionship of a fellow literary fan. That is, until he was laid up in a wheelchair by the Slayer, was thwarted in his attempt to resurrect the Judge, was humiliated and cuckolded by that bastard Angelus, and fought to regain Dru then slipped off to Mexico with her. Those things rather distracted from quality socializing time.  
  
Tonight he was off to pay his old friend a visit.  
  
*********  
  
"Spike, my friend, it has been years since I heard from you. Where have you been?" the Russian grabbed him and enveloped him in a bear hug. Spike patted his back gingerly.  
  
"Good to see you too, mate. I had some trouble in Sunnydale and had to leave, but I'm back." Spike was ushered into the plush room, which hadn't changed an iota since the last time he'd been entertained here.  
  
"I have missed our discussions. There are so few of the undead who care to read the classics. A hundred years may pass between meetings with a kindred spirit who truly enjoys literature. Please sit." Baranzykov gestured to a heavily upholstered armchair and Spike sank into it gratefully. It really had been a long night and he could sense the imminence of sunlight.  
  
"Where is your lovely lady?" the Russian enquired as he poured blood from a samovar on the sideboard.  
  
For just a moment, Spike thought he meant Buffy. "Oh, Drusilla. Yeah, well, we had a parting of ways shortly after we left the area."  
  
"That is too bad. A rare gem such as she is something to be treasured unto eternity. You must have been shattered to lose her."  
  
"Indeed I was," Spike agreed sincerely. "But time and circumstance have allowed me to discover an even greater love." He was annoyed to find his speech pattern unconsciously changing from his everyday slang to the cultured language of his youth.  
  
"Impossible." Baranzykov set the warmed cup of blood before Spike. "I have never seen such devotion exhibited between two of our kind. You can not have found a replacement for such a unique creature in such a brief time."  
  
"I have. She is Dru's opposite in every way, but she is also a pearl. Such radiant incandescence, I cannot describe to you. Strength, power, vulnerability, and sweetness are inextricably combined in her to create such a paragon of...." Spike stopped himself before he could wax even more rhapsodic. "That is ... She's a right lovely bird and I'm mad about her."  
  
"Well, that is wonderful news. May I be so lucky to find even one great love in this endless immortality." The other vampire sighed and dropped into the seat across from Spike. "There was a human girl, once.... She, I could have loved."  
  
"But instead you ate her," Spike surmised.  
  
"Unfortunately, yes," his friend replied. "And a tasty morsel she was, too. But I would have preferred her company, which would have passed many a long, lonely night, to that one brief moment of sustenance so quickly finished."  
  
"I hear you. It is a conundrum."  
  
"The lack of companionship is almost more than I can bear sometimes," the sad-eyed Russian admitted. "I would not share this with anyone but you, my friend, but the hunt and the kill do not thrill me like they used to. There is a void inside.... Do you ever feel it?"  
  
"I have," Spike replied quietly. "And the lady I told you of, she is the only thing that can make it go away."  
  
The unsuspecting Baranzykov exploded into a shower of dust.  
  
"That's why you have to die, mate. Because I'm hers now." Spike drew back his stake hand and blew off the remnants of the Russian. He sat back down, drained his cup of blood, and stared at the empty chair his philosophical friend had occupied.  
  
Almost a quarter hour elapsed before he rose and began gathering his loot; a Fabergé egg, icons, miniatures and fabulous jewels. But the prize piece in the collection was unexpected. Alexei had somehow managed to secure one of the eight swords of Rugievit and it was beautifully displayed in a glass case over his mantel. Spike shook his head as he broke the glass with his fist and took down the perfectly balanced weapon. What kind of a vampire used a sword as artwork instead of a weapon?  
  
As he walked past Alexei's armchair Spike noticed the book his friend had been reading. His hand hovered over a priceless first edition of Doestoevsky's 'Brothers Karamazov', then descended on the book and began to fan the pages. Bits and pieces of passages leaped out at him.  
  
"In the town I was in, there were no such back- alleys in the literal sense, but morally there were. If you were like me, you'd know what that means. I loved vice, I loved the ignominy of vice. I loved cruelty; am I not a bug, am I not a noxious insect?"  
  
"I could never understand how one can love one's neighbors. For any one to love a man, he must be hidden, for as soon as he shows his face, love is gone."  
  
"I'm not guilty! I'm not guilty of that blood! I'm not guilty of my father's blood. . I meant to kill him. But I'm not guilty. Not I." "Oh, if I, too, could sacrifice myself some day for truth!" said Kolya with enthusiasm. "I should like to die for all humanity."  
  
He slammed the book shut, picked up his box of expensive trinkets and the sword then headed out to his car.  
  
To be continued.... 


	10. 10

Still Bound, chapter 10  
  
"Gone"my way. Anya comes to a decision. The Summers girls act up.  
  
Thanks to Zyrya as always for checking and critiquing my work. Lines of dialogue lifted directly from the show must be credited to BtVS writers, Fury & Espenson; also you may recognize an e.e. cummings phrase.  
  
She might not be the proverbial 'big as a house' but looking down at the little round mound that used to be her beautiful flat belly, which she had loved to flaunt in crop tops and bikinis, Buffy was sure she was at least as big as a small tool shed. If Riley could only see her now! And there was a reminder she didn't need right now. Yes it was true she was busy, very busy, but she knew in her heart she didn't really want to make time to track down her baby's father. She hadn't made any effort at all up to now.  
  
As usual when she didn't want to dig too far into the truth, Buffy turned her attention to a more solvable puzzle than her own twisted psyche. The mystery that was currently stumping the Scoobies was the attack at the museum. A frost monster or some kind of ice spewing demon had stolen a huge diamond, leaving a security guard encased in a thin layer of ice. The man had been thawed out and was in intensive care, hooked up to life support unable to answer questions about what he had seen before getting zapped.  
  
Their research had turned up nothing, no creature that lived on diamonds or came from a frozen climate, with the unlikely exception of the Abominable Snowman. In all of her years of watching 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer' at Christmas, Buffy had never dreamed she would be considering the furry, white, jagged toothed Abominable as the possible perpetrator of a diamond heist. If her life hadn't been ludicrous before this took it to a new level.  
  
Buffy entered Continental Hair Design and took a seat in the lobby, paging through stylebooks. She may have a new, unlovely figure, but that was all the more reason to give her spirits a boost with a makeover. Anya was throwing her a baby shower and the guest of honor intended to show up in a snappy maternity dress with a brand new hairdo and a much-needed manicure.  
  
Buffy's feelings toward Anya had warmed considerably over the past two months. Ever since Buffy had announced her pregnancy, Anya had been fascinated and concerned. Never one for subtlety, the Anya had made it obvious that she herself fiercely desired a child. Since Xander wouldn't oblige her with marriage and children, she was living the motherhood fantasy through Buffy. She devoured parenting magazines then marked the most pertinent articles for Buffy to read. She enquired about Buffy's diet, making sure it was adequate and that she was getting enough rest. And she often bought baby clothes and toys and presented them to Buffy with the admonishment that it was never too early to start decorating the nursery and had she thought about her theme yet.  
  
Although overwhelming and annoying, it was also quite touching, especially since Buffy was in emotional overload these days and missed the pampering she would have received from her mother.  
  
"You sure you want to do this, honey?" the beautician was asking as she began pinning up sections of hair in preparation for the cut. "'Cause it'll take a while to grow back."  
  
"Cut away," Buffy commanded. "Create a whole new me."  
  
The woman grinned and patted her on the shoulder. "All right. A bob it is. And I'm sure you'll look cute as a pixie in it."  
  
Buffy's smile faltered. She had actually slain a devilish pixie before and found it as wrinkled and ugly as a week old banana peel.  
  
********  
  
Buffy shook her head as she left the shop, enjoying the light feel of her new shoulder length hair. She looked down at her shiny nails and ran her thumb over their smoothness. She vowed to keep them unchipped for at least a week, even if she had to wear gloves while slaying.  
  
A sudden jolt of electricity went through her and she was tossed to the ground.  
  
"What the fu...?"  
  
She slowly raised herself from the sidewalk, palms scraping on the rough surface. Looking down to check on the state of her poor fingernails, Buffy saw ... nothing. No hands where hands should be.  
  
"Urgh!" She let out an unintelligible squawk. "What now?"  
  
*********  
  
Anya's silence today was ominous Xander thought. His balls shriveled when she got all icy polite like this because he knew it was just a matter of time before she exploded.  
  
"Well, you must be pretty happy finally being in charge." He ventured a toe into the pool of non-conversation. "I mean, Giles didn't even leave you with a checklist this time and he's going to be in England for at least a month."  
  
"Yes. He trusts my judgment, as well he should since I'm an extremely competent businesswoman," Anya replied, not looking up from the Magicks for Daily Living catalog. She checked the price on a lovely stone pestle, shook her head and deleted it from her list.  
  
"That's great and you are," Xander praised enthusiastically. Maybe her renewed interest in being Super Businesswoman would distract her from the motherhood kick she'd been on lately. Anya's biological clock had kicked in with a vengeance, no pun intended.  
  
"As a matter of fact, I'm thinking of opening a retail shop of my own," she added. "Heaven knows real estate is cheap enough in this town. There's always a vacant storefront in a prime location."  
  
"Really?" This was the first Xander had heard of the idea. "What would you sell?"  
  
"Magic supplies, of course. A town like this can use more than one magic shop and mine would be geared toward a different clientele. Demons need to buy things too, you know." She paused, then added, "And I thought I'd have a nice aromatherapy section."  
  
"A magic shop! You'd compete against Giles?"  
  
"Why not?" Anya shrugged. "Capitalism is founded on the basis of healthy financial competition."  
  
"An, are you sure you know what you're getting into?" Xander said hesitantly.  
  
"Oh, here we go." Anya slammed the catalog shut. "Go ahead, Xander, list my inadequacies! Give me reason one hundred and one that Anya can't function as a proper human being."  
  
"I'm not...." He placatingly held up his hands and counted to ten before speaking in a quieter tone. "I'm not saying you couldn't do it. I'm sure you could do a great job of managing a business. I just wondered if you'd considered the ... the ethics of undermining the man who gave you your start, and of selling merchandise to the beings we kill on a daily basis."  
  
"Well I have to do something with my time and since devoting myself to home and family seems to be out of the question...." Anya grabbed a feather duster and began flicking furiously away at the candle display.  
  
"Anya, we've been over this. I told you my reservations about marriage. Hell, I even sang them to you and then, if you recall, I proposed. So if you want to get married, let's get married!" Xander's voice was steadily rising and Anya was dusting faster and faster.  
  
"Not when you ask that way! With a negative attitude like that you're likely to ... to stand me up at the altar or something. No. When you ask me to marry you, I want you to mean it with all your heart."  
  
"I do," he protested, growing more exasperated by the second. He started toward her.  
  
"No you don't." Anya slapped the duster down on the counter and whirled to face him. After one sorrowful look she lowered her voice and repeated. "No. You don't. And that's why I think.... I think it's best if we had some time apart."  
  
"Time apart? You're giving me an ultimatum?"  
  
"Not an ultimatum. I'm telling you I've already rented an apartment. I've been thinking about this for some time."  
  
"Wh-what?" He shook his head, not believing what he'd heard.  
  
Anya crossed the room and clutched his arm. "We can still date. I'm not breaking up with you. I just think some distance...."  
  
"Distance?" He backed away from her beseeching hands.  
  
"Some time to think," she explained. "To prioritize. Maybe we should even try dating some other people."  
  
"You are. You're breaking up with me. My god."  
  
The front door bell jangled and they broke their freeze frame to look up. No one entered the shop.  
  
"Hey guys!" A familiar voice came from nowhere. "Guess what happened to me today."  
  
********  
  
Buffy was exhilarated. Once the initial shock of finding herself invisible wore off she began to feel like she was on a vacation. She dumped the research and problem solving into Xander, Anya and Willow's hands and went off to explore Sunnydale unseen. It was a real kick to observe people who had no idea you were there.  
  
She decided to visit the social worker who'd been giving her a hard time about Dawn's school attendance. How could anyone explain pulling a child from school because she was in danger from a hell god? Buffy had gone with an explanation of mono and now the woman wanted proof from a doctor's office. She had had the audacity to tell Buffy she found her parenting 'suspect' and that she would be 'keeping a close eye' on her.  
  
When Invisible Girl was done playing, Doris was no longer the pompous little bureaucrat who had invaded Buffy's home and threatened her family. She was a nervous wreck who doubted her sanity and was likely to be fired from her job. Feeling justice was served, Buffy went whistling off to her next adventure.  
  
After wandering around the mall, watching people and being severely tempted to take a few things just because it would be so easy, Buffy was getting bored. Here she was practically omnipotent and yet unable to break any rules because she was too moral. Surely there was something she could do that was fun, wouldn't hurt anyone, and could only be done while invisible.  
  
She somehow found herself at the door of Spike's crypt, a place she'd avoided like the plague ever since ... always. Although she'd come by for his help once in a while since, the only time she'd spent any time here was That Night, the one that marked the end of their short-lived marriage. Most of the time Spike was the one to seek her out on patrol, at the Magic Box or at Revello Drive.  
  
Buffy didn't knock. She slipped into Spike's home as quietly as the fog on little cat feet.  
  
He was sprawled in his one and only armchair in front of a flickering TV, watching some black and white horror movie. Despite her silence his head turned to the creaking door and he stood up from the chair frowning.  
  
"I know you're there. Whatever beastie you are, I know you're there. And I hurt beasties."  
  
She circled him, padding like a stalking leopard.  
  
"A ghost is it? Go haunt the living."  
  
She pounced, throwing him against the wall and tearing open his shirt in two swift moves.  
  
His nostrils flared as he caught her scent. "Buffy?" He twitched as she licked up his chest, his throat, the side of his face all the way to his ear.  
  
"No," she whispered. "Guess again."  
  
"Uh, J-joan?" he stuttered, half choking on lust.  
  
"Bingo!" She seized his lips with her own and bore down on him like a wild thing, grappling with his shirt, tearing it off his shoulders, then going to work on his jeans.  
  
**********  
  
He gasped at the unexpectedness of her warm hands, unseen but everywhere at once, touching, stroking, scratching, probing, pulling his clothes away until he stood naked before her. He felt an unconscious urge to shield himself from her eyes. It was too strange to be examined and not be able to see in return. Not registering every flicker of emotion, every subtle change in her face meant not knowing how to respond. What did she want from him other than the obvious? How should he be? Teasing or serious? Sexy or tender? Aggressive or passive?  
  
Well, the last question was answered quickly as she grabbed his arm and spun him toward the ladder to the basement level.  
  
"You have a bed now, right?" she asked, breathlessly. Even her voice sounded different, husky and rough. He wondered if she were under a spell which conferred more than invisibility.  
  
"Yeah," his voice broke on the word like a pubescent choirboy. He led the way downstairs.  
  
When he reached the bottom rung of the ladder, Spike waited until he could feel her warmth sweep past him. Then he stood, not sure of where she was until he heard the rustle of clothes over by the bed. He gulped and his whole body tightened at the awareness that Naked Buffy was within a yard of him and that he would be allowed to touch her in a matter of seconds.  
  
The bed creaked, the covers were thrown back and suddenly there was a depression on the pillow and the mattress. He stared, paralyzed.  
  
"What are you waiting for?" she asked petulantly.  
  
"Engraved invitation," he answered, attempting humor.  
  
"Don't be a such a goof, Spike. Get over here," she commanded.  
  
He obeyed, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed and sliding his hand along the sheet until it reached warm, human skin. His dead heart must have been jumpstarted because his head was suddenly suffused with blood, his ears rang and he thought he might faint. He swallowed again, hard.  
  
"Isn't this what you wanted?" she taunted, wiggling a little under his seeking hand.  
  
"Uh, not if you're going to kill me tomorrow because I took advantage of you while you were out of your head."  
  
"Relax. I'm invisible, not insane or enchanted." She suddenly became gentler and he felt fingers encircle his wrist and draw him down onto the bed. "Come on," she breathed. "Hold me."  
  
"All right," he said inanely and crawled up the bed until his body could envelop hers.  
  
**********  
  
He kept up a stream of words the whole time, pouring over her in waves as if sounding her presence, verifying that it wasn't just a fantasy in his bed.  
  
When they were finished and lying quietly together, he stroked her invisible arm over and over. "What are you thinking, Buffy?" he whispered.  
  
"That you have very sharp bones." He could feel her head moving into a more comfortable position on his chest. Her hair brushing across his skin sent shivers through him and his cock began to harden again.  
  
"Already?" Buffy exclaimed. And suddenly her hand was on him, tugging playfully.  
  
"It's you," he said. "Just being near you does this to me all the time. I'm in constant pain around you, woman."  
  
"Then maybe you shouldn't be around me," was her flip answer.  
  
"I could no more leave your presence than the moon could stop revolving around the earth."  
  
"Oh, please!" He could hear the patented Buffy eye roll in her voice. "Spare me the poetry. You just wanted to get laid and now you have."  
  
"You think that's all this is about? Getting you into bed? I told you I'm mad about you. Would do anything for you. I worship the bloody ground, et cetera."  
  
"And if that chip failed tomorrow, you'd happily take a big chomp out of my neck," Buffy said drily.  
  
"You don't believe that," was his outraged reply. "At one time, yes, but now I wouldn't dream.... A man can change, Buffy."  
  
"But you're not a man," she answered softly. "I'm sorry Spike, but you're not. You're a monster. I could never ... love you." She sounded sad, almost apologetic.  
  
"You loved Angel," he protested bitterly. "A creature, a demon, no different from me. Just another animated corpse."  
  
"He has a soul. That makes him different," she explained as patiently as if speaking to a slow child.  
  
"So if I had one you would look at me with something other than contempt? Would you allow yourself to come to me some time when you're not under an enchantment?"  
  
"We don't need to talk about this." He felt her stretch and shift against him. "Can't we just enjoy today? Not pull it apart and examine it? I'd like to relax for once without having to worry about consequences."  
  
Spike suddenly felt as if he were holding air, and the odd thought struck him that if they looked in the mirror right now there would be nothing there at all. 'So this is where we leave it,' he thought, 'I can't see her and she refuses to see me.'  
  
"All right," he answered. "Whatever you want, Buffy." He reached a hand down and began to tickle her ghostly flesh. "We'll keep it light."  
  
**********  
  
Dawn entered the dark kitchen as quietly as she could, opening and closing the door carefully. Thank god Slayers only had super strength, not super hearing. She really wanted to get upstairs before Buffy knew she was home. She began to tiptoe across the floor, hefting her school bag on one shoulder and a shopping bag in the other hand.  
  
Dawn now had a system. Janice had advised her on it. The trick to getting really nice stuff was to buy at least one little thing at the store you were targeting. A salesperson was much less likely to suspect you if you took the time to purchase a necklace or belt. They never dreamed a second blouse was under the shirt you were wearing, if you were clever, if you were relaxed and chatty.  
  
She felt like a secret agent on a mission when she went 'shopping' with Janice. Dawn had graduated from cheap jewelry and trinkets and was now outfitting herself in a new wardrobe. It was important not to introduce too many new clothes at once so Buffy wouldn't notice and question her. Most days Dawn wore one top and packed another to change into at school. Life was getting so complicated - but exciting.  
  
Who needed to be a superhero or a mystical key when you could live fast and dangerous in the regular world. Dawn pictured herself as an antihero, living outside the law only not doing anything too evil. Kinda like Spike.  
  
Although the light was on in the living room, the house was silent and it appeared Buffy wasn't home. Dawn relaxed ... then the refrigerator door suddenly swung open and she shrieked and jumped back, tripping over her own feet.  
  
"You're home kinda late," Buffy's voice said and Dawn watched in amazement as the milk jug floated out of the fridge. "Want some supper? We have flying pizza." A pizza box lifted off the counter and also began moving through the air.  
  
"Buffy? Wha...what's going on? What happened to you? I can't see you!"  
  
"Yeah, funny about that. One moment I was there and the next ... poof. Willow, Xander and Anya are working on it." The milk settled on the counter and the pizza box lid flew open. A slice of ham 'n' pineapple levitated from it.  
  
Dawn took a step forward, her voice rising in panic. "What about you? Shouldn't you be researching too? Why are you being all jokey about this? It's not funny!"  
  
"Sorry. You're right. It's very serious. But look at the cool things I can do with the food." A pair of apples lifted from the fruit bowl and began flying through the air as Buffy juggled them.  
  
"Stop it!" Dawn screeched. "You're freaking me out."  
  
Buffy dropped the apples on the floor and they went rolling away. "Okay!" she said, laughing. "Sorry. I'm just a little giddy."  
  
The phone rang.  
  
After Xander explained that she might melt into puddinglike goo if she didn't get fixed fast, Buffy sobered right up. He told her that Willow was searching for the owners of the black van and would check in soon. Buffy had no sooner hung up than the phone rang again.  
  
"Slayer, we have your friend. If you want to see her again...." Buffy's heart sank at the words. She listened to the kidnappers' instructions and agreed to meet at the arcade, hoping to exchange herself for Willow.  
  
The rest of the evening passed quickly. First her opponents were invisible then they were revealed as a trio of loser geeks with delusions of being Lex Luthor. Then they were gone. It wasn't often that Buffy was forced to fight humans and it made her very uncomfortable not knowing how hard she dare hit without killing them. Sitting on the sidewalk with Willow afterward, she still couldn't believe that she had let the little rats slip away. They just seemed so pathetic she didn't have the heart to pursue them.  
  
"Thanks, Will. If it wasn't for you and your super sleuthing I could've been mousse before we figured out who was behind it. The diamond heist is explained and the invisibility gun is destroyed all in one night because of you. And we know where their lair is, though I don't imagine they'll be hanging out there now."  
  
"The question is how are you going to deal with them, Buffy?" Willow had on concern face. "You can't just kill them, and I don't know if tipping off the police would do any good."  
  
Buffy shook her head. "You're right. I'll scope out their hideout tomorrow. Maybe that'll give a clue on Warren's ultimate plan. He's the leader, don't you think?"  
  
"Definitely. This doesn't have the mark of Jonathan on it, and as for that other guy, he didn't seem bright enough to spell 'heist' let alone plan one."  
  
"Well, at least we know who we're dealing with now but doesn't it seem kind of ... lame? I mean to go from battling a hell god with all kinds of super powers to having a spat with some weak human nerds?"  
  
"Speaking as a reformed nerd," Willow said with slightly forced jollity. "I resent that. However ... yes."  
  
************  
  
As Buffy walked home, she looked down at her feet moving rhythmically over the pavement. She patted her little round belly as she had that morning, 'Hi, baby! How you doing?' She examined her manicure and found that it was still intact. She pinched her arm for the marvel of watching it turn white then pink. And then she saw another mark farther up her arm, a thumb shaped bruise delicately shaded purple. She stroked her hand over it and thought about how it had gotten there.  
  
Sex with Spike was nothing like it had been with Riley ... or that jerk Parker ... or her one special night with Angel. It was hard and wild and kind of violent ... just the way she secretly liked it. And then it had been fun and teasing and silly, which she found she liked, too. But there was also the long and slow and deep, which had totally blown her away with its intensity.  
  
Then stupid Spike, always with the talking, talking, talking mouth had to go and ask her 'What are you thinking?'  
  
How could she answer that? How dare she put into words the knowledge that had begun to stir deep inside her? How could she say, "What I'm thinking is, if you weren't the evil creature that you are I could be falling in love with you."  
  
To be continued.... 


	11. 11

Still Bound, Chapter 11  
  
Interlude between "Gone" and "Dead Again." Spike gets closer to his goal. Willow/Tara reconstruct while Xander/Anya deconstruct.  
  
Some of you may have missed chapter 9 due to the fact that it was a re- post, replacing old copy with new. If you did, be sure to check it out so that later events in the story make sense.  
  
Thanks again to Zyrya for beta-ing.  
  
Lying on the Summers' couch watching the golden glow of the sunlight through the thin draperies which were all that stood between him and fiery immolation, Spike was content. No, he was more than content. He was peacefully relaxed, smugly pleased, incandescently joyous, gloriously happy, downright bloody at one with the universe. He was on Buffy's couch and all was right with the world.  
  
He was there by invitation, in the middle of the day taking a nap or, more precisely, gloating. An offhand 'It's so late now you might as well spend the day' and he was admitted to the inner sanctum. Actually the inner sanctum would be Buffy's bedroom, but this was a start.  
  
When Buffy had burst into his crypt last night after avoiding him for over a week, Spike knew it was business only.  
  
"Dawn's missing. She's gone off somewhere with Janice and I think they're in trouble. She should have been home hours ago."  
  
Without a word Spike jumped up, grabbed his coat and followed her out. Although he considered it likely that the chit would turn up eventually when she was good and ready, he wasn't going to miss an opportunity to spend quality tracking time with Buffy.  
  
Turned out the evening was a bit more exciting than that. Dawn and that little tart Janice had hooked up with a pair of teenage vamps who wanted to do more than feel up their drawers. There'd been some good fighting and staking of a whole band of youthful fledges, then the Buffy tongue-lashing and metaphorically dragging her errant sister home by the hair. Spike had accompanied.  
  
Once a tearful Dawn was sent to her room, Buffy collapsed on the couch next to Spike and began pouring out her woes.  
  
"I don't know what to do with her. She is so secretive lately. I don't know what she's up to. Her grades are starting to slip. I know Janice is a bad influence but I don't know how to get Dawn to make different friends. It's awful! Now I know what my poor mother went through when I went out at night. Of course I was saving the world, but she didn't know that."  
  
"She's a teenager, Buffy. Give her enough time and she'll grow out of it."  
  
"More like give her enough rope and she'll hang herself. We live on the hellmouth, Spike, I can't just let her 'work through it'. She could be dead by the time she realizes what is responsible behavior and what isn't."  
  
"Well being more accustomed to dining on teenage girls than raising them, I'm probably not the best person to offer advice, but since you've brought it up...."  
  
Buffy frowned and folded her arms in preparation for disagreeing with whatever ideas he might have.  
  
"You might try giving the girl more responsibility and less coddling. She's not too young to have a job of her own, earn her own pocket money. And she'd be a damn sight safer in this town if you'd teach her some fighting skills and arm her with a weapon. I'll even help if you like. I can teach the Bit some defensive moves, give her the inside scoop on what predators look for in a victim, that kind of thing." He waited for the storm of denial and vitriol and was surprised by Buffy's continued silence.  
  
She unfolded her arms and looked thoughtful. "Actually ... you have a point. Other girls her age go babysitting, don't they? I did back in L.A. before I became the Slayer." She paused and Spike let her wheels whirr and click for a bit.  
  
"She really was pretty good with the stake tonight, wasn't she?" Buffy said, almost smiling. "Upset as she was, she kept her cool and did what she had to do."  
  
"Mm-hm."  
  
"All right." She looked at him. "I know she won't learn anything from me the way we argue, but if you're willing to train her then go ahead."  
  
Spike was surprised by her capitulation but he just nodded.  
  
Checking Buffy out from the corner of his eye, he saw she was pale and had shadows under her eyes. She looked exhausted. She was absently rubbing the sides of her distended belly with both hands. Although she really wasn't too large yet, on her small frame the bulge was obvious.  
  
He nodded toward it. "The little spud getting a bit tiresome to haul around?" he asked.  
  
"Sometimes," she admitted. "It's not that heavy really, but it's just so . awkward. Throws my balance off when I'm fighting. I don't like it."  
  
Spike shifted on the couch so that he was facing her. "Turn around," he commanded.  
  
Her eyes shifted nervously and she sat up, poised for flight.  
  
"Come on now, I'm not going to do anything untoward. Not with your little sis right upstairs. Just thought you looked a bit wired is all. Turn!"  
  
With a 'you better not try anything glare', she turned her back. Spike's hands descended on her shoulders and began to massage. At first she was stiff under his kneading fingers, but as he started hitting pressure points and releasing tension, she relaxed like a cat in the hot sun. He worked from her shoulders up to her neck, spent some time easing the muscles there, then moved back down. His hands pushed the tightness ahead of them, leaving limp muscles in their wake.  
  
Buffy moaned a little in her throat. Spike paused for a moment at the sound, gently stroking the skin where his hands lay, lightly circling his thumbs. It was a temptation to replace hands with lips and turn the comforting massage into something much more therapeutic, but he maintained control and forced his hands to resume their work.  
  
After a couple of minutes he removed his hands, ending with a final smoothing stroke over her shoulders.  
  
"Better?" he asked.  
  
"Mm-hm." She sounded more than half asleep but he wasn't ready to let her go.  
  
"So, you want to fill me in on how you got your body back? I hadn't heard from you since that day. Thought you might still be Caspering around SunnyD."  
  
"Yeah. Sorry about that. I got . busy. It turns out the invisibility was courtesy of the same idiots who provided my wacky time shift day, the M'Fashnik demon and both the bank robbery and the diamond theft. Three nerds who imagine themselves super villains are behind it."  
  
"So you caught them," he surmised.  
  
"Not exactly. Willow found out where they were based but by the time I went back the next day they had cleared out." Buffy sounded embarrassed. "I don't think we have to worry about them, though. I whaled on them a little after Willow revisibilized 'em. I think they got the message. They'll probably clear out of town."  
  
"You had these berks under your fists and you let them go?" Spike's voice raised.  
  
"They're human! What could I do? Kill them?"  
  
Spike let that hang.  
  
Buffy shook her head, exasperated. "I don't kill human beings, Spike! And I would've turned them over to the police but they kinda...." her voice lowered and she flushed red, "got away."  
  
"So, you don't kill humans but if it were one of my kind, a demon, that'd done all those things you'd have'em sliced, diced and evaporated by now."  
  
"They have to be exterminated. Demons are inherently evil," Buffy explained solemnly.  
  
"So are some humans," Spike rejoined.  
  
He could feel the tension mounting between them and didn't want to spoil this night so he waved a hand, brushing away the subject. "Whatever. It's your call. You're the Slayer."  
  
"Yes. I am." She frowned.  
  
"Where's Little Red tonight?" he asked, rerouting the conversation.  
  
"On a date with Tara," Buffy's frown faded and she appeared to be making an effort too. "Willow got brave and called her since Dawn thought Tara was in a forgivey space. Hopefully, they're halfway to making up."  
  
Spike glanced at the window. "It's nigh on to morning. I'd say they're probably more than halfway by now."  
  
She smiled. "I certainly hope so. I don't know if I could stand much more of mopey-Willow. It was worse this time than when Oz left."  
  
"Must be true love, then," Spike said.  
  
"I guess so." Buffy sounded surprised, as if realizing for the first time the depths of Willow's feeling for Tara. "To tell the truth," she confided. "I kind of thought it was a phase when Will first told me she had a girlfriend. But now... I don't know, she's just desolate without Tara, and she was so ... complete when they were together. Maybe it is love."  
  
Spike nodded. "Well let's hope the little birds make up, then. That white witch is a quiet one but powerful. Maybe she can keep your girl in line."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Buffy was affronted. "Willow's not out of line. She's as inline as a ... a pair of skates!"  
  
"You just keep tellin' yourself that right up to the day she magics the whole world into a hell dimension or something."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Right now Red is an accident waiting to happen. She's got too much ability and too little brains to direct it."  
  
"That's not.... Willow is the smartest person I know. She hasn't used magic in weeks now. She's learned her lesson and I trust her completely." Buffy shut down the discussion.  
  
"She's your friend. I guess you'd know her best," Spike said mildly. He examined the flaking black polish on his fingernails, suddenly deciding that he was done with that look and wouldn't paint them again. "Just like I'm sure you were aware that she was gay long before she came out."  
  
Buffy fell silent. She hated letting him have the last word, but there was really nothing to say to that.  
  
After a moment she glanced out at the lightening sky. "It is almost morning," she mused. "You'd have to dash to make it home before sun-up."  
  
Spike wondering where this was going made a non-committal, 'Mm.'  
  
"It's so late now, you might as well spend the day," she offered.  
  
His mouth practically dropped open in shock. "Yeah. All right," he managed.  
  
"Here," she quickly amended. "On the couch!" She jumped up.  
  
Buffy drew the drapes and Spike sat awkwardly for a moment, hands between his knees, before beginning to unlace his boots.  
  
"I'll, um, get you a blanket." She skittered out of the room and was back in a moment, practically throwing the Rug Rats comforter at him. "This is all I could find. It used to be Dawn's."  
  
"'s fine," he muttered. "Thanks."  
  
"If you get thirsty there's ... well, there's no blood in the fridge obviously, and no beer or any other kind of alcohol, but we have, um, I think we have cranapple juice or something."  
  
"Well, least it's red." The corner of his mouth quirked up.  
  
"All right then," she blew out a breath and turned to go. "See ya."  
  
After Buffy went upstairs, Spike was dying for a cigarette. He considered stepping out on the back porch and having one, but he didn't want to do anything to jeopardize his new position. He had been invited in, and by god he was staying in.  
  
He could hear Buffy up in her room. The floor creaked as she moved about getting ready for sleep. He could hear water running in the bathroom, the flush of a toilet, then a different kind of creak as she settled on her bed. He wondered if this invitation to stay was something more. Did she intend for him to creep upstairs and join her there? Better to stay put than misread her signals, he decided.  
  
He sighed in frustration and closed his eyes. He would stay on the couch and go to sleep, although he didn't know how he would manage to get any rest at all with Buffy just a heartbeat away. When Spike opened his eyes again, it was afternoon and the sun blazed behind the thin drapes of the picture window.  
  
***********  
  
Spike's mental replay of the previous evening ended when the front door crashed open and Dawn arrived home from school. She threw her bag down in the hall and strode over to stand above him, staring down, arms folded. He blinked at her upside down face looming over him.  
  
"You're just now waking up? Jeez, what a lazy ass."  
  
"Well maybe if someone hadn't kept me out scouring Sunnyhell looking for her 'til all hours of the morning, I wouldn't be so tired," he replied dryly.  
  
Dawn's face fell, but she covered with a scowl and a pout. "I would've been all right," she insisted. "I took care of Justin myself, didn't I?" She turned on her heel and stalked into the kitchen.  
  
Spike yawned and stretched, enjoying the warmth if not the slight prickling sensation from the sun. He supposed he ought to smooth things over with the Bit so he got up and followed her from the room. The kid was obviously troubled and not sharing with Big Sis these days, so he'd see what he could do with her.  
  
Dawn was cutting slices of cheese from a big wedge when he entered the room. Spike crossed to the counter and leaned against it watching her.  
  
"Crackers are in there," she snapped after a moment, pointing to a cupboard. He crouched down to rummage them out.  
  
"So Buffy still made you go to school today after your big night out?" he asked.  
  
"She told me if she had to drag herself to work, I had to go to school," Dawn complained. "Janice's mom didn't make her."  
  
"Janice's mom is raising a little hellion." Spike straightened, a box of Wheat Thins in his hand.  
  
Dawn shrugged and rolled her eyes.  
  
"You did well last night, Niblet," he remarked offhandedly. "So good in fact that I've talked your sister into letting me train you in some hand-to- hand. What do you think?" he asked, opening the box.  
  
She dropped her knife and whirled to face him. "Are you kidding?! You are kidding - Buffy would never let me." She began to pout again. "That's not funny, Spike."  
  
"Not joking," he said. "I reminded her you're a big girl now and you should be able to protect yourself and she agreed."  
  
"That's fantastic," Dawn squealed and appeared about to launch herself into his arms. Spike sidestepped and turned toward the counter. The girl half hugged his arm anyway.  
  
"Don't hyperventilate," he admonished. "It's not going to be a stroll in the cemetery, you know. You'll be doing some real work. Getting sweaty and bruised and knocked about, but when we're through you'll hopefully be a little safer."  
  
It was obvious the sweaty and bruised part had passed right in and out of Dawn's ears and all she'd heard was that she was going to be transformed into a fighter just like her superpowered sister. She began chattering away as she arranged the sliced cheese on the crackers and topped each with a half an olive.  
  
Spike tuned her out after, "...and I wanna work with nunchucks. They're the coolest. I'll be like a ninja, all stealthy and creeping through the night, then BAM! pouncing...." He smiled and nodded and daydreamed about Buffy coming home and asking him to stay for dinner.  
  
********  
  
Willow woke to a Tara-scented pillow under her cheek. She turned her head into it, breathed deeply and smiled. She didn't think she'd ever been so content in her life. Finding Tara and falling in love with her had been fantastic, but reuniting with her lover after almost losing her was even better. Willow was so blissed out she felt like she was on drugs - not that she knew what drugs felt like. No, it was more like the rush she got when the power surged through her while doing a spell. That's what loving Tara was like.  
  
She checked the bedside clock and was surprised to find it was already mid afternoon and that she had missed the one class she was taking this summer. Then she saw the note propped next to the clock on lemon-scented paper. She seized and read it eagerly.  
  
"Sweetie, I had to go to work, but I couldn't bear to wake you to say goodbye. You look so cute when you sleep with your hand all twisted up in your hair and that little frown puckering your forehead, and you make that adorable whistling 'pooh' through your lips. I could hardly stand to leave you. I know you have a class today. I'll see you after, though, same time same bed? I've missed you so much these past weeks. I love you, sweetheart. I know you're trying and that everything's going to be better now. Love, Tara"  
  
Willow pressed the note to her lips inhaling Tara's favorite scent from the message. Oh god, she would never do anything to mess this up again. Never!  
  
She counted the hours until she could see Tara again and realized there were far too many. Well, she would just have to visit her at work. Nothing said she couldn't stop by the health food store and browse, and if she just happened to run into her snuggle honey restocking herbal teas or those cardboard tasting fiber bars, so be it.  
  
Willow leaped out of bed, dressed only in the wide, happy grin on her face, and headed in to the bathroom to shower.  
  
***********  
  
Xander trudged up the stairs to his apartment, beat from a long, arduous day of hauling drywall up two flights of stairs. He slipped the key into the lock and then paused. He could hardly bear to turn it, open the door and find the apartment Anya-free for six days and counting. He'd never dreamed he would miss her so much.  
  
Since Anya stormed his life at their first date, the senior prom, Xander had felt rather like a flood victim. He was swept along in the waters with not a stick to grab onto. Helpless to fight it, he had just bobbed about in rough current or gentle eddies, but always at the river's mercy. Her moving out had left him high and dry and gasping for breath.  
  
The first couple of days it was actually a relief to be apart but by the third day he felt an uncomfortable itch somewhere deep inside, which by the fourth day had turned into a sort of ache. The fifth day the ache was throbbing painfully like a boil that needed lancing. Today ... Xander was ready to see the doctor. And this was only week one!  
  
True, Anya had made it clear that they weren't officially 'broken up'. All he had to do was call her and ask her out on a date. But she hadn't called him once. It was obvious that she was leaving the ball in his playground, waiting to see what he would do, and that just pissed him off. Testing! That's what it was. She was giving him some kind of boyfriend test to force him to admit how much he missed her, and he was not going to be played like that. He had pride, damn it. He would not call.  
  
Xander turned the key in the lock and opened the door to hear his own voice on the answering machine, "...leave a message." He dove for the phone.  
  
"Yeah? I'm here," he said, breathlessly.  
  
"Good evening. Is this ... Alexander Harris?" A thickly accented voice spoke through both the phone and the answering machine speaker.  
  
Telemarketer.  
  
"No. I'm subletting." He hung up.  
  
Damn telemarketers. His heart was pounding.  
  
Xander's hand hovered over the phone and came to rest on the receiver. He started to lift it but put it back. Not yet. First a nice hot shower, some dinner and a beer then he'd see. Come to think of it, the shower could wait. Beer first.  
  
He sat on the fancy little chintz-covered chair Anya had insisted on placing in the entrance hall. As he unlaced his work boots, he thought how she'd scream if she saw him on her carefully chosen upholstery in his dust coated clothes. Maybe he wouldn't call at all tonight. Nothing so bad about being a bachelor, after all.  
  
There was no one to complain when he took his sweaty, smelly body into the kitchen and pulled a cold Pabst out of the fridge. There was no whining when he sprawled out on the couch in his dirty jeans and set the bottle on the table without a coaster. And there was no comment when he channel surfed so quickly the colors practically bled or when he landed on a channel that actually had mud-wrestling women. No one said a word when dinner was a bag of chips, crusty, leftover lasagna, no veggies at all, and two more beers.  
  
A couple of hours later in the bathroom, Xander set the water running to warm it up. He stripped, entered the shower and totally wet himself down before he remembered that he needed a new bottle of shampoo. Cursing, he stepped back out of the shower and dripped across the floor to the cupboard where it was stored. He fumbled around, knocking ointments and cold remedies, lotion and hydrogen peroxide out of the way. No new shampoo.  
  
Instead he pulled out a bottle of green liquid, stared at it and then unscrewed the cap and breathed deeply. Anya's apple scented bubble bath. An instant snapshot memory flashed in his mind of her emerging from the steamy bathroom, wrapped in a thick terry robe, her body redolent of a sweet orchard in springtime. He remembered her jumping onto the bed next to him, chattering all the while, untying the robe and sprawling full length along his body. She would be pressed against him, warm, moist, and smelling like the sour apple Laffy Taffy he used to love so much as a kid.  
  
Xander clutched the bottle tight and tears welled. The ache inside him, which had been banked like hot coals all day, roared to fiery life. He rubbed the heel of his hand furiously across his eyes. Damn! He was losing it. This was just ridiculous. The woman had only been gone a few days.  
  
He screwed the lid carefully back on the bottle and replaced it in the cupboard. Then he considered that he still didn't have shampoo and wondered if bubble bath would work just as well. He took Anya's scent into the shower with him.  
  
********  
  
Buffy arrived home bone tired from the previous night's search for Dawn and the even longer day serving up fast food to the hungry masses. It seemed like everyone in Sunnydale had chosen today to go quick and cholesterol for lunch.  
  
She dumped her keys and purse on the hall table, checked the mail for another anonymous envelope from Giles, and walked into the living room where she found Dawn and Spike playing cards.  
  
"No! One-eyed jacks are not wild. Nothing is wild. Do you want to be a serious player or not?" He broke off and a smile lighted his face as he saw Buffy.  
  
"It's a game Spike! It's not supposed to be serious," Dawn argued, then greeted her sister. "Hey."  
  
"Is this part of Dawn's education?" Buffy asked, eyeing the cards.  
  
"Knowing how to bluff can be critical when facing an opponent," Dawn recited as her mentor had taught her. "Spike's teaching me poker face. See." She stared at Buffy, completely deadpan.  
  
"Works in life as well as cards," he explained. "Doesn't do to leave your emotions out where anyone can see them."  
  
Buffy almost laughed. The combination of being lightheaded with hunger, sleepy as a winter bear and hearing Spike wisely pontificate on the very thing at which he sucked made her feel quite giddy.  
  
"We made soup," Dawn said. "And I'll fix you a tuna salad sandwich if you want to shower and change." It was always wonderful around the house for a while after Dawn had really screwed up. Buffy accepted the peace offering and went to clean up.  
  
After eating her dinner and spending quality time listening to Dawn and Spike bicker, Buffy broke up the poker game and had Dawn pop in a video. The teen chose the Mandy Moore epic "A Walk to Remember" despite Spike's protests and was soon deeply engrossed in the weepy drama.  
  
On the couch Buffy nestled against pillows at one end while Spike cradled her feet at the other. She hadn't intended for that to happen. She had curled her legs up so that she inhabited no more than her 2.5 share of the cushions, but when she shifted and her foot happened to brush against his leg, he had casually drawn both her feet onto his lap. It would've been too awkward to pull away as if it meant anything to her, so, with a quick glance to make sure Dawn was still wrapped up in Mandy's troubles, she just left them there.  
  
Then he started with the rubbing and she couldn't have moved if Bob Barker himself had offered her a Hawaiian vacation and a new entertainment system. It felt so good, in fact, that she was soon half asleep.  
  
The dozy spell was broken when Buffy felt a sudden pressure in her abdomen. Her eyes flew open and her hand went to her stomach. The weird, fluttery feeling repeated softly like an echo, then harder again. She could feel the baby shift and kick from the outside as well. It moved under her hand like a trapped bird.  
  
Buffy sat up, pulling her feet back into her own sphere. "Dawn! Come feel this."  
  
"What?" Dawn jerked from her doze with a start.  
  
"The baby's moving."  
  
"Really? Cool!" Dawn was on her knees by her sister's side in a second, eagerly placing her hand on the smooth, rounded surface under which life was swimming. "Wow!" she breathed. "It's really alive in there. It feels so weird."  
  
"Yeah," Buffy agreed.  
  
"Spike, come feel this," Dawn urged the vampire, who had remained silent but observant during this exchange.  
  
"No," he said. "I don't think so."  
  
"Come on. It's really neat."  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"I don't want to."  
  
"Are you afraid?"  
  
"No. I just don't want to," his voice began to rise in annoyance.  
  
"You are. This creeps you out," Dawn crowed. "Big Bad's grossed out by a tiny, little floating human fetus!"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," he sulked.  
  
"Then touch it. I dare you," Dawn jeered.  
  
Buffy watched in amusement and approval as her sister baited and bullied the vampire.  
  
"All right. I will," he exploded. He slid over on the couch and Dawn grabbed his wrist and put his hand on the pulsating life in Buffy's belly. Of course the baby chose that moment to stop moving.  
  
"Give it a second. It'll probably start up again."  
  
Buffy watched Spike's intensely concentrating face, as he stared at his hand resting on the thin white material of her shirt. Suddenly the baby kicked and Spike jumped and pulled back like he'd been burned.  
  
"Christ!" he muttered. "You people carry little strangers around inside you and you think vampires are scary?"  
  
Dawn burst out laughing and Buffy grinned.  
  
"Oh, glad I can amuse," Spike huffed, withdrawing to his corner of the couch. "Could you stop your hen clucking so we can hear the movie?" he demanded.  
  
Dawn got her giggles under control then teased, "I thought this movie was 'an example of the bloody travesty that occurs when a pop star thinks she can act.'"  
  
Spike just growled - literally, sounding like a peevish tiger.  
  
Uncharacteristically demonstrative, Buffy gave Dawn a big smile and a hand squeeze before her sister returned to her chair. The Slayer then curled back into a ball on her corner of the couch, still rubbing a hand absently over her mound of baby. She was feeling all motherly and nesty. This must be the famous 'pregnant woman glow' she'd heard about.  
  
Staring at the TV screen, Buffy went off into a daydream about walking with her little son in the park; feeding the ducks, showing him nature type stuff and romping with him in the playground. And as her fantasy slipped into dream, she imagined a shadowy daddy figure with them. Only it wasn't Riley.  
  
When she awoke again, the TV screen was blue and Dawn was sprawled in the chair breathing through her open mouth. Spike, too, was asleep with his head tilted at an awkward angle against the back of the couch, Buffy's feet cradled in his lap again, and his right hand loosely clasped around her ankle.  
  
To be continued.... 


	12. 12

"Still Bound" chapter 12  
  
This chapter: Spike, as usual, is torn between the Victorian romantic and lusting wolf aspects of his personality. Buffy is attracted to both but her common sense is fighting on the side of sanity and trying to reject him. The events of "Dead Things" happen.  
  
Hey all. Thanks for your continued reviews and support of this story. They are continually appreciated, as is Zyrya's beta help.  
  
Who, besides me, is very nervous about what they're going to do to Spike on "Angel"? I've kept spoiler free but am just getting a bad feeling that his supreme sacrifice at the end of "Buffy" is going to be negated by the "Angel" writers treating him as comic relief or something. I'd rather end with the mental picture of heroic, burning Spike than have that image tarnished by mishandling. He should not be a joke and he SHOULD win the shanshu humanity, damn it!!  
  
*********  
  
Nights passed. Days passed. Lovers reaffirmed commitment. Lovers crumbled apart. And some of them just avoided their partner like death.  
  
Spike was broodily nursing a bourbon and staring down from the balcony at the happy dancers in the Bronze.  
  
"One step forward and ten buggering steps back," he mumbled angrily to himself, cursing the day he'd first laid eyes on the Slayer. Tonight was Friday. It was a week since that one promising evening spent in Buffy's company hanging out like a real boyfriend and he was no closer to her than he ever had been.  
  
He spent plenty of time with Dawn, training her a few evenings a week, sometimes stopping by for TV night. But Buffy was as elusive as if she were still invisible. When he did manage to meet her on patrol she would assign him some other part of Sunnydale in which to hunt, but many evenings she was impossible to find at all. The girl was a master of avoidance.  
  
Spike didn't understand her shutter in the breeze changeability. He had been a perfect gentleman while in her home. Hadn't tried to touch her beyond the shoulder and foot massages. Stayed put on the couch where he'd been placed. What the bloody hell was her problem? He tossed back the rest of his drink and slammed the glass on the table.  
  
Just then his senses tingled and his eyes riveted on the door as a shiny blond head entered the building. Buffy was with her girlfriends tonight and they were all dressed to dance.  
  
The four women were lucky enough to find a recently vacated table in the crowded Bronze. They clustered around it, flagged a waitress and ordered drinks. Anya was talking animatedly, punctuating her thoughts with dramatic gestures. From the glazed looks on the other girl's faces, she must have been regaling them with a list of Harris' faults for quite a while.  
  
Willow pointed to the dance floor and Tara nodded. The two quickly slipped away and were soon entranced in each other's eyes as they slow danced, leaving Buffy to woodenly smile and nod at Anya's unending stream. The waitress placed four drinks at the table and Buffy grabbed and gulped hers down. (This is a silent tableau which Spike is watching. I don't want to move into it. All the audience need know is that Tara and Willow have made up.)  
  
As the music changed from sappy to snappy, Buffy finally interrupted Anya. She spoke quickly, intensely and gestured toward Willow and Tara now gyrating and jiggling in happy abandon. Anya eyed the dancing throng, said something to Buffy, took another sip of her drink and then shimmied her way into the crowd.  
  
Buffy visibly relaxed in her chair. Spike could almost hear her exaggerated sigh as he watched from on high. She chewed at the straw in her now empty glass.  
  
'Come to me,' he mentally beamed. 'I'm waiting for you, pet. You don't have to sit alone. I'm right up here. Come.'  
  
Buffy rose. Spike started in surprise, amazed that after all these years he appeared to be developing Dru's art of thrall. But then Buffy walked toward the ladies' room. He frowned and pouted and sucked on a whiskey soaked ice cube.  
  
God, he wanted her so much. That afternoon of bliss, when she'd been unseen but in his arms and his bed for hours, had only served to whet his appetite. Since then he'd endeavored to be whatever it took to win her trust: patient, thoughtful, caring, undemanding, protective and all that other happy human bollocks. But his patience was wearing thin and his demon nature was roaring to be released. He simply wanted her to burn for him like he burned for her. Was that so much to ask?  
  
He perked up as she emerged from the restroom and started toward her table.  
  
'Come to me. Come. Need you, Buffy. Need you now,' he internally chanted. Suddenly she stopped, turned away from the table, looked at the stairs and began to walk toward them. He almost choked on his chip of ice. He stepped away from the balcony rail and back into the shadows.  
  
Buffy stepped from the top of the stairs and onto the catwalk just as the last couple of humans pushed past her on their way down. Perfect! They were now alone. Spike watched her drift over to the balcony rail where he had stood only moments before and gaze down at the milling throng below.  
  
He prowled out of the darkness to stand behind her.  
  
"Hello, Spike," she said resignedly.  
  
"Could you hear me calling you, love?" he purred seductively as he crowded her personal space. "Could you feel me in your mind?" He placed a hand on her waist.  
  
"No. I saw you when I came in," she said. "And I was perfectly aware you were lurking in the shadows when I came upstairs. You always think you're way more mysterious than you really are."  
  
"Oh." His bubble burst, Spike started to remove his hand from her waist when he suddenly realized she wasn't pulling away and was, if anything, leaning into his touch.  
  
He tightened his grip and moved his body even closer to hers. He could feel that delicious human heat rolling off her in waves, her backside warming his front. He pressed against her and she relaxed into him. His other hand slipped around and caressed the firm round bulge of her stomach.  
  
His lips stole down to her neck and began to feather lightly across her exposed skin. Fortunately she was wearing one of those sexy peasant blouses so he had access from jaw line to bare shoulder. He took advantage of that playground and was rewarded with the sound of her heart racing.  
  
When his mouth had worked its way back up near her ear, he paused to whisper, "You missed me, too." It wasn't a question.  
  
As Spike's left hand continued to stroke her belly, the right snaked around and began moving rhythmically well below the pregnant zone.  
  
She gasped. "D-don't."  
  
"Why not?" he whispered. "Feels good, doesn't it? Nothing wrong with that."  
  
"I can't ... don't want to encourage you," she managed. "It...it isn't right."  
  
He ignored her; kissing, licking, murmuring endearments and touching some more.  
  
"I ... don't ... love you ... Spike," she gasped out.  
  
"So I've heard. Doesn't matter," he said and nipped her earlobe. "You want me, anyway. That's enough." 'For now' his mind supplied the rest.  
  
His body enveloped her back like a heavy velvet cloak. Reaching up his left hand to cradle her cheek, he gently turned her head toward his as he loomed over her shoulder. Their lips met and tongues entwined.  
  
After a moment of this, Buffy pulled back. "You're killing my neck," she complained and turned to face him for the first time, wrapping her arms around his back, clutching fistfuls of his shirt and pulling him as tightly to her as her stomach would allow.  
  
They kissed rough and hard, slow and gentle; hands moving and sliding over each other's bodies. They kissed until Buffy was breathless and Spike was in pain from desire. He rubbed his hardness against her crotch, trying to relieve the pressure but only becoming further aroused. He reached between their bodies and unfastened his fly.  
  
"What? No! Not here, Spike. Are you crazy?" Buffy snapped out of her sexual stupor as if someone had dashed cold water in her face. She backed away from him.  
  
"Where then? When? Let me take you somewhere. I can't ... can't wait any longer, Buffy," he panted. "Please. Please don't change your mind again. I need you."  
  
"I can't just leave. I'm with my friends." Buffy glanced down to where Willow, Tara and Anya were still dancing with loose-limbed fervor if not grace. She looked back at Spike, whose eyes were burning as blue as the center of a match flame.  
  
"Later then," he begged. "Come to me after." He reached a beseeching hand toward her. "Not just for sex but a real date. I'll feed you ice cream and ... and chocolate. Whatever you want."  
  
Hysterical laughter bubbled under the surface and threatened to burst from Buffy's lips. She wanted to make some smart-ass remark about strangers offering candy but was sickeningly aware of how close to the truth it would be. Who knew how many innocents had been lured to their destruction by the creature who stood before her with his charming manner and his beautiful face.  
  
"I don't.... I can't...." She turned away from him and moved toward the stairs. She paused. "I'll come," she promised before disappearing down them without a backward glance.  
  
Spike stood there blinking in surprise for a moment, processing her words. Then a slow smile crept over his face. She was coming. She'd said she would.  
  
He found his coat in the corner where he'd discarded it and shrugged it on. He had to hurry. There was a lot to do to make his home presentable for their first official date.  
  
*********  
  
Spike took a final look around his crypt, which was glowing in the light of dozens of flickering candles and heady with sandalwood from the brazier of incense burning in the corner of the room. A white cloth covered the sarcophagus in the center and placed on it was a brass vase of colorful flowers picked from gardens he'd passed on the way home. A delicate porcelain bowl he had gleaned from Clem's pawnshop also graced the table.  
  
In the mini fridge was a pint of cherry ice cream, and ready to warm in the microwave was a jar of hot fudge. Soft guitar music from the cheap stereo filled both levels of the crypt. The downstairs was also aglow with spicy scented candles and the bed made up with fresh sheets and scattered rose petals, courtesy of the urn by the Avery crypt.  
  
Spike took a last look around and nodded, satisfied that he'd set an atmosphere that would touch a human girl's heart. He was ready. More than ready. He paced back and forth, fizzing with barely contained excitement. She was coming. She'd promised. She would be there. She had to. She wouldn't break her word, would she? Slayers were all true blue and honor bound so she would've just told him bugger off if she wasn't committed to it, right?  
  
Any time now she'd break down his door. Or maybe knock hesitantly, even shyly. He would let her in with a courtly bow and she would be amazed and impressed by the changes in his crypt. She would exclaim how lovely it was and that she'd never guessed he had such a flair for decorating.  
  
Then he would offer her a seat in his armchair, its ratty upholstery shrouded for the occasion in a deep blue cloth he had scavenged. A little nervous, she would settle back, anticipating whatever culinary surprise he had in store and he would proceed to serve her.  
  
The vision got a little hazy after the part where her lips closed around the first spoonful of ice cream and pretty much devolved into pornography involving naked Buffy and hot fudge from that point on. God, he was a bundle of nerves and need!  
  
Spike froze in mid-pace, his head swiveling toward the door. His anxious face relaxed into a smile and he glided over to stand by it. His hand caressed up and down as if already touching the body of the woman he knew stood just on the other side. After a moment, when she still had not knocked he threw the door open wide and found only darkness there.  
  
***********  
  
"I have to be responsible. I have to be smart," Buffy spoke aloud to herself as she walked through the cemetery, twirling her stake nervously. "I can't keep letting him get to me."  
  
This was easier said. The follow-through was damn hard. Just a bare minute ago she had come close, so close to giving in to her Spike urges yet again. Standing outside his crypt door, she had felt his presence within pulling at her with the relentlessness of an undertow. As a matter of fact, the ocean analogy perfectly explained her relationship with the vampire. She was a rock, granite maybe, strong and hard and solitary and able to withstand wind and fire and possibly even dynamite. But he was water, working on her inexorably, lapping, flowing, moving around her until she crumbled and fell.  
  
The only way she could survive, could keep her integrity intact, was to remove herself from the ocean's reach. So that's what she was doing. Walking away. Actually almost running away but if that's what it took to withstand the Spike ocean then that's what....  
  
A scream and cry for help tore through the night. Buffy lifted her head toward the sound, grateful for the distraction from her personal demons. A soul in need! That she could deal with. She loped off, leaping tombstones and dodging branches as she headed toward the victim.  
  
Then time went wonky again, which should've been her first clue that Warren and his cronies were behind it, but at the time Buffy couldn't register anything but the face of the dead girl at her feet.  
  
Buffy was disoriented as she found herself in quick and jumbled succession; fighting demons, running, listening to Spike rant about their 'date' and trying to protect the dark haired girl the demons were pursuing. When the mismatched segments of time straightened out the only clear thing was that she had struck a killing blow to the woman she was attempting to save.  
  
Buffy stared at the body, horror-struck as Spike tugged on her arm and begged her to trust him. In shock, she followed his instructions like an automaton, going home to hide her head under the covers, hoping to wake up and find it all a dream. But when she woke, after a nightmare filled hour's sleep, the facts hadn't changed. The girl was still dead and she, Buffy, Champion of the People was responsible.  
  
Rising from her bed, she scribbled a quick note to Dawn and Willow explaining that she had some important Slayer business to take care of and not to worry. Then she walked out into the night intent on rectifying her hit and run by going to the police.  
  
**********  
  
"I told you, I took care of it," Spike assured her for the second time.  
  
"It? What 'it'? This was a girl, Spike. And I'm responsible for her death!" His words suddenly caught up with her and with mounting trepidation she asked, "How did you 'take care of it' anyway? What did you do?"  
  
"No one will ever find her. No one will ever know," he said, attempting to sound calm and reasonable.  
  
"Spike!" If it was possible, her heart beat even faster. "What did you do?"  
  
From the back of the police station a trio of cops emerged talking loudly about the girl's body found floating in the river.  
  
"Neck trauma?" one of the officers asked.  
  
"Not this time," another replied. "Looks like she was stabbed and there's also a head wound."  
  
They got into a car and took off, sirens screaming.  
  
Trancelike, Buffy started to walk up the alley toward the police station.  
  
Spike grabbed her arm. "Buffy, don't do this. It was an accident. Don't ruin your life."  
  
"A woman is dead because of me!"  
  
"And how many more are alive because of you?"  
  
"That doesn't change anything. It doesn't make it all right." She shook off his hand and continued walking. He moved in front of her, blocking her path.  
  
"I'm not going to let you...."  
  
"Get out of my way, Spike." She shoved him - hard, and he stumbled backward. He quickly righted himself and intercepted her again at the mouth of the alley.  
  
"Move!" Again she knocked him aside, but he clutched at her arm as he spun away, dragging her down with him. He fell to the ground, Buffy tumbling on top of him.  
  
"Let go!" she snapped. Spike refused to release her wrist so she punched him with her other hand, snapping his head back against the ground.  
  
"No," he roared. He tried another tack. "Think of Dawn. If you go to prison, what will become of her? Do you honestly believe your father will finally take up his responsibilities?"  
  
"Shut up," Buffy cried, and hit him several times more in quick succession, driving his face into the pavement. She struggled against his viselike grip on her arm. His nose gushed blood and he raised his free hand to shield his face from her next blow.  
  
"What about the sprog?" he asked, twisting so that her fist cracked against the pavement instead of his jaw. "Taking the moral high ground isn't going to help anyone who depends on you. And what use to the world is a Slayer stuck behind bars?"  
  
Buffy wrenched herself from his grasp, shaking him off with all her strength. She stood and, for a moment, he thought she was going to kick him. Drawing a deep shuddering breath, she regained control.  
  
"Leave. Me. Alone," she imbued each word with poison. She stepped over him and continued toward the police station. He rolled to the side and watched her go, but didn't try to stop her again.  
  
********  
  
Later, when Buffy realized that Warren and his crew had set her up, she knew that she had underestimated the danger of nerds run amok for too long. It was time to locate their new hideout and do some damage control.  
  
Emerging from the police station after her near brush with the law, Buffy looked toward the alley, but Spike was no longer there. She felt guilty for treating him so roughly. He had, after all, been trying to protect her. He couldn't understand that she dare not start making special excuses for herself, bending rules to fit her need. That way lay Faith.  
  
Anyway, she was sorry she'd hit him so hard and should probably find and tell him so, but tonight she had taken about all the drama she could stand. It would be an effort just to drag her body home and get to bed at this point.  
  
She sighed and started walking.  
  
************  
  
With a roar of rage Spike swept his arm across the top of the sarcophagus, sending the vase of flowers and the pretty porcelain bowl flying across the room to shatter against the floor. He turned and smashed his fist down on the stereo putting an end to the shimmering run of notes that had filled the crypt with sound. In the subsequent silence, broken only by his stream of curses, he proceeded to tear apart everything in the crypt; kicking the TV over, ripping the makeshift slipcover off the armchair, knocking candles to the ground, tearing the refrigerator door off its hinges and throwing the slightly melted carton of ice cream at the wall where it dripped down to make a sticky puddle on the floor.  
  
Then he stormed downstairs, snatching up a handy axe on the way. He rampaged through the lower level, slashing the bedding to ribbons and chopping at the bedposts, as rose petals crushed under his boot heels sending a thick cloud of sweetness through the dank room.  
  
"Bloody, fucking hell, I hate her! Hate her! Why is she so stubborn? Why is she so much trouble? Drusilla on her worst night was easier handled! Christ, if I just had this chip out...."  
  
His initial blinding fury spent, he collapsed against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor, arms resting on knees. Sighing, he leaned his head back, closed his eyes and pictured the Slayer with her throat ripped out, bleeding to death at his feet. It gave him no joy. In fact, the image actually made him queasy instead of hard.  
  
"She's ruined me," he muttered sadly. "Castrated me. Turned me into a toothless, biteless freak." He gingerly touched the side of his face, which she had ground into the pavement, and flicked away a speck of gravel embedded in his cheek.  
  
Unbidden, an image of Buffy in all her fiery glory flashed in his mind's eye. "But god, she's magnificent when she's pissed," he remarked to the empty room.  
  
To be continued.... 


	13. 13

"Still Bound" Chapter 13  
  
Last chapter: Spike thought he had Buffy talked into a date but ultimately only had her fist in his face. This chapter: Buffy's birthday sans vengeance curse or demon in the wall. Other things happen instead.  
  
"Happy Birthday dear Buffeee, Happy Birthday to you," warbled the off-key Scooby chorus.  
  
Buffy directed a sunny smile at the assembled group before leaning in to blow out her candles. The smile was getting to be more of an effort as the evening wore on. It was tiring pretending to be jolly. She wondered how mall Santas managed.  
  
Since discovering that Warren and his cronies were responsible for Katrina's death, Buffy was no longer able to overlook their presence in Sunnydale. But they were harder to find than she'd anticipated. She hadn't seen the black van since the day she'd been invisibilized, and the worst part was that Buffy didn't know exactly what to do with the Nerd Trio if she found them. Her job description didn't include hunting and killing dangerous humans - only demons.  
  
Lately, the distinction between what was 'good' or 'bad' Slayer behavior felt pretty murky. It gave Buffy a headache if she thought too hard about her 'mission' and all it connoted ... especially with Spike, the vampire without a soul, added into the mix. All demons inherently evil, right? Spike was just a serial killer imprisoned by a computer chip, right? If she believed anything other than that, she would begin to have doubts about every vampire she dusted, every demon she killed.  
  
But then ... there was Spike. Helping out when he could have organized chaos and mayhem. Fighting alongside the gang when he could have been sending minions to destroy them. And loving Buffy fiercely when he should have been plotting her death. Or maybe he was still hatching some long- term sinister plan and everything that came from his mouth was a lie.  
  
Buffy sighed, sick to death of doubt and confusion.  
  
"You all right, Buffy," Willow asked, concern puckering her forehead. "Are you getting tired? 'Cause we could make it an early night...."  
  
"No!" Dawn cried in distress. "We haven't even started the games yet!" She turned to Buffy. "We're having games; Monopoly, Risk, cards. It'll be a lot of fun. You can't be tired. I don't want everyone to go."  
  
"Of course not," Buffy agreed heartily. "I'm all about the partying. I'm not an invalid, Willow, just a little pregnant. I'll be fine."  
  
"Good!" Dawn said. "Here. Have some cake." She thrust a loaded plate at her sister.  
  
Buffy took fork in hand and began dutifully eating cake, then because it was really good and gooey and rich and chocolatey, she gobbled it down in earnest. When she looked up again, licking frosting from her lips and dabbing at her chin with a napkin, he was there.  
  
Lounging in the living room doorway, shoulder to the wall, Spike had a paper bag clutched in one hand and a cigarette in the other.  
  
"Spike!" Dawn squealed right next to Buffy's ear. "You came!"  
  
"You told me to," he reminded, ignoring the birthday girl and directing all of his attention toward Dawn, who jumped off the couch and went to take the bag from him.  
  
"What's this? Birthday present?" she asked.  
  
"No. Booze," he answered caustically. "Thought I might need it to see me through this little shindig."  
  
Dawn just rolled her eyes at the insult. "You can't smoke in here, you know. Baby, remember?"  
  
Spike didn't argue. He removed the fag from his mouth and crushed it on the bottom of his boot, then flicked the stub into a potted plant. "Better?"  
  
"Much. Hey, what happened to your face? Nasty, horny demon?"  
  
"Mm. Something like that," he said, rubbing thoughtfully at the abraded skin of his cheek. Buffy turned her attention back to her plate and began intently pressing her fork against the crumbs that still lingered there.  
  
"I'll get you some cake," Dawn continued, pulling Spike into the room by the arm and shoving him toward a chair.  
  
Willow and Tara looked up from their giddy flirting just long enough to acknowledge his presence, while Xander shot him a generic glare from across the room then resumed conversation with his work buddy, Richard.  
  
"Hi. Are you a friend of Buffy's?" asked the girl perched on the edge of her chair near Spike. She politely held out a hand, which he didn't take. "I'm Sophie. I work with Buffy at the Doublemeat Palace. Not forever though. I'm taking night classes at the Beauty Academy. I want to be the best cosmetologist in the world. Of course my mom is worried about all the chemical fumes because I'm sensitive to a lot of things, like ammonia and bleach and all petro-chemicals. And she may make me quit beauty school soon because she doesn't think it's safe for me. But I love it and I told her that all the grease and bacteria at DP can't be too good for me either. Now I think she might talk to my manager at work about the conditions there and I might have to look for another job so I can afford to keep on going to the Beauty Academy, which I love."  
  
"Hm." Spike turned away from her brilliant smile and hollered toward the kitchen. "Dawn? How 'bout that cake? And pour me a glass of whiskey while you're at it."  
  
The doorbell rang and Dawn ran from the kitchen to let in the next guest.  
  
Conversation stilled when Anya entered the room. Willow, Tara and Buffy flicked glances at Xander, who was frozen like an agoraphobic in a spotlight. Ignoring him, Anya went straight to Buffy and handed her a brightly wrapped package.  
  
"Since it's customary to show your appreciation of your friends on their natal anniversary with a well-chosen and preferably expensive gift, I have purchased a lovely mantel clock for you which I'm sure will give you many 'hours' of pleasure and use," she said with a wide smile. "And I'll bet it's more expensive than Willow's gift, which she probably bought jointly with Tara, proving that I care more."  
  
"Oh. Uh. Thanks," Buffy said, accepting the gift.  
  
"Aren't you going to open it?"  
  
"Wait!" Dawn shrieked, tearing into the room with Spike's cake in hand. "We're not opening presents yet. Everybody always leaves after presents. We have to play games first!" She handed the cake plate to Spike, who reluctantly took it.  
  
"Where's my drink?"  
  
"Get your own. I'm not a barmaid!" Dawn scowled at him.  
  
"Will there be gambling involved in the games?" Anya asked, dropping down on the couch next to Buffy and looking brightly around the room. And right through Xander as if he were air.  
  
"Probably not," Willow said. "Anya, this is Sophie, Buffy's friend from work, and Richard, Xander's friend."  
  
"Hi," Sophie wiggled her fingers. "I'm not allowed to gamble anyway. Not even with chips. My mom thinks it could start an addiction."  
  
"Richard." Anya's eyes moved with interest over the handsome guy sitting next to Xander. "I think I've heard Harris mention you." She stood and went over to take Richard's hand, not sparing a glance for Xander. "Pleased to meet you," she said, her voice lowering and eyes sending a seductive message.  
  
"And you're...Anna?" he asked, returning the smoldering eye contact and the lingering hand clasp. "Xander never mentioned you," he added with a flirty smile and an emphasis on the 'you'.  
  
"Reeaaally," she drawled. "Why doesn't that surprise me? I was only his girlfriend for two of the longest years of my life!"  
  
Richard dropped her hand at the word 'girlfriend'. "Oh! Sorry man, I didn't realize...." He shot an apologetic look at Xander, who was bristling like a junkyard dog.  
  
"Not an issue. She's a free agent now. I'm only an ex," Xander said in a clipped tone. "Flirt away." He stood and stalked off toward the kitchen. Spike chuckled as he passed and Xander turned on him. "Shut up, Evil Dead," he hissed.  
  
"What? I didn't say anything."  
  
Willow, with a quick squeeze of Tara's hand, jumped up to follow Xander out of the room. She too cast an evil eye at smirking Spike as she passed.  
  
"Hey Buffy," Tara said loudly, attempting to diffuse the tension in the room. "Did you talk to Giles today?"  
  
"Why yes I did, Tara," Buffy replied in a cheerily fake voice. "He called this afternoon. Said 'Happy Birthday' to me and 'hello' to everyone else. He should be in Merrie Olde tying up the details of his uncle's estate for another few weeks."  
  
Anya, meanwhile, had drifted over to Buffy's stack of presents and was eyeing them as if weighing and measuring the contents. "He can stay as long as he likes as far as I'm concerned," she remarked. "Uh, not that I don't like Giles," she hastened to add. "But I'm perfectly capable of running the shop without his guidance as I continue to tell him every single day when he phones to check in on me as if I were an incompetent toddler."  
  
"I'm sure he trusts your judgment, Anya, or he wouldn't have left you in charge," Tara soothed. "It's just not easy for him to let go, you know."  
  
"I bet Giles will bring back presents," Dawn said. "English souvenirs or whatever. God, I hope he doesn't give me something stupid like a Big Ben paperweight or something. Or that crappy toffee that sticks to your teeth."  
  
"Hey, don't knock the toffee," Buffy scolded. "I love that stuff."  
  
"Yeah. Well, you love anything right now and you're going to end up as big as a house if you don't watch out," Dawn snarked back.  
  
"Do you know that refined sugar will not only rot your teeth but it's chock full of chemicals that actually interfere with your brain patterns?" Sophie added helpfully.  
  
"I did not know that," Buffy said, smiling harder than ever.  
  
"You know, Dawnie," Tara said gently. "Maybe it's time to break out the games."  
  
"I'm up for Monopoly," Anya put in. "That's the one with the money, right?"  
  
Richard nervously rose and looked imploringly at Buffy. "Um. Should I...? I mean is Xander pissed off? Should I go talk to him?"  
  
"He'll be fine," Buffy assured, also rising. She touched Richard's arm. "Why don't you help Dawn set up the card table so we can play."  
  
"Okay," the young man amiably agreed.  
  
"I'm stepping out for a smoke," Spike announced to the room in general and putting his untouched plate aside, he swept from the room.  
  
Buffy sighed, watching his black clad back vanish out the front door. He was so obviously pissed about the other night for which she still had not apologized, but there were party guests to be seen to and she didn't have time to deal with Spikiness right now.  
  
"Anya, you can set up the board and be the banker," she commanded. "Sophie, if you could help me pull up some chairs, that would be helpful."  
  
********  
  
"I can't believe I'm defending Anya of all people," Willow said, "But Xander, you can't blame her for being upset."  
  
"You're taking her side?" Xander's voice rose. His arms were crossed defensively and he leaned against the counter as Willow rested a placating hand on his arm.  
  
"No. Not taking sides. But I do see both sides of it. You've both told me more than I ever wanted to know about your personal lives, and I think I understand what Anya is feeling right now."  
  
"You are! You're taking her side! Damn, sisterhood."  
  
"Cut it out. You know, men say they don't understand how women's minds work but then won't shut up for a second to hear what we're telling them! Listen and learn! You really insulted Anya when you basically told her that she turned you off."  
  
"What?! I never said anything like...."  
  
"You told her that her demon self was unacceptable and that it creeped you out. Well, Xander, that demon was who she was for over a thousand years."  
  
"But she's human now. She's good. The demon is gone."  
  
"Maybe not so much gone as assimilated into her human persona." Willow looked up at him with earnest eyes. "I'm not judging, believe me! I just want you two to understand each other so you can decide where this relationship goes next. If you can't deal with everything Anya is, maybe you really don't want to call her. But if you still care, you'd better make a move quick or the window of opportunity is gonna slam down on your fingers."  
  
"Well, thanks for the advice, Dr. Will," Xander dripped sarcasm with a side of snide.  
  
"Hey, I just dish it," Willow said lightly, backing off and raising her hands in surrender. "Whether you want to eat it or not is up to you, and boy, that did not come out the way it sounded in my head."  
  
Despite himself, Xander cracked a smile.  
  
"Come on. Let's go have some fun for Buffy's sake, okay?" Willow nudged his shoulder.  
  
"Have fun. Right. Easy for you to say. You already made up with your girlfriend," he pouted as he passed glasses from the cupboard to Willow, who ladled punch into them.  
  
*********  
  
The front door opened sending a beam of light into the darkness and startling Spike into stumbling backward and almost falling off the step into the yard.  
  
"Spike, what are you doing," Buffy spoke in the tone she usually reserved for idiot fledgling vamps. "Are you ... Were you poking around in my mailbox?"  
  
"No!" He took a defensive stance, fingers fumbling in his pockets for lighter and smokes. "No. I was just ... out for a smoke. Why? What are YOU doing out here?"  
  
"It's my yard," Buffy reminded him. "Besides, Dawn wants you in there for the games portion of our cruise." She took another step forward and looked suspiciously from Spike's face to the mailbox. Face. Mailbox. Face. His eyes flicked nervously away from hers. Hmmm.  
  
"You WERE messing with my mail!" She stormed over to the box and flipped it open. "What? Are you still pissed about me hitting you the other night? Maybe stuffed a dead cat in there or...." Her voice trailed off as she withdrew a virgin white envelope from the box.  
  
She stared uncomprehendingly at the thick envelope in her hand then her eyes slowly rose to his. Her mouth opened but no words came.  
  
Spike lifted his chin defiantly. "So now you know, don't you," was all he said.  
  
Buffy looked back to the envelope, licking her suddenly dry lips and shaking her head. "How? Why?"  
  
"Think that'd be bloody obvious by now. I've told you I love you a dozen times already. You know I'm mad about you, and a man takes care of his woman any way he can."  
  
" 'His woman'? Spike," she waved the hand with the envelope crushed in it. "I am not your 'woman' or 'girlfriend' or 'lover'. I'm not anything to you...."  
  
"Oh really? That's not the way it felt when you were riding me like you planned to win the whole Triple Crown in one go." He took a step forward, dark brows knitted in a menacing scowl.  
  
"Where did you get it?" she continued, only a deep blush betraying the fact that his words had hit home. "Hold up a bank? Threaten more convenience store clerks?"  
  
Spike paused a beat then said through gritted teeth. "No, I did not."  
  
"Well you certainly didn't find a job or come into an unexpected inheritance," Buffy chided. "How did you get the money, Spike? I want to know what crimes I've been an accomplice to."  
  
"I sold some stuff," he hedged. "But I'll have you know I didn't do anything you could say was illegal."  
  
"Sold stuff? You don't own anything!"  
  
"Didn't say it was my stuff now did I?"  
  
"So you stole...."  
  
"Liberated from some very dusty vamps who had no more need of their possessions. And you remember Clem's pawnshop where I got the rings? He gave me fair value for my merchandise."  
  
"This.... This...." Buffy went back to shaking her head and gazing at the plump envelope in her grasp. "This is so not good. Spike, you know I can't take this money."  
  
"Why not? You were perfectly happy to accept a tax free gift when you thought it was sodding Watcher delivering it."  
  
"That was different. Giles is like a father to me. And any money that came from him would be legitimate."  
  
"So you don't want to soil your hands on my money?" Spike snapped. "Fine. Fucking give it me and I'll go. Figure out for yourself how you're going to pay the gas bill or make a house payment or feed your scrawny self." He made a snatch at the envelope.  
  
For second they each clutched half of it, their hands almost touching. Their furious eyes met and dueled. Buffy broke first, releasing both the envelope and her gaze.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said simply. "I know you probably hoped I'd be falling all over myself in gratitude and swooning into your arms or something, but that's not going to happen. I don't love you back, Spike. It's never going to happen."  
  
He tilted his head trying to catch her gaze again. "Why, Buffy? Why can't you just let yourself go? I could be so good for you. Would give you anything you wanted. I know you feel ... something for me. I was right there with you, remember, and I know it was more than sex."  
  
She locked eyes with him at last and spoke firmly. "Whatever it was, it wasn't love. It couldn't be. You have no soul." She turned, walked into the house and closed the door.  
  
To be continued..... 


	14. 14

"Still Bound" chapter 14  
  
This is a short chapter, because the end scene was just a perfect cliffhanger ending so I had to stop.  
  
*********  
  
"Yep. Yeah-huh.... All right, I get it, Buffy, geez! Straight home. Bye," Dawn hung up the phone with a sigh and picked up her rag to resume dusting.  
  
"Don't go around the candle display this time," Anya reprimanded. "I want you to move every one, dust the table and then wipe down each candle before you put it back. A clean display is a quick-moving display."  
  
"So I've heard," Dawn said, pulling a face at Anya's back as she complied.  
  
"Don't get smart, missy," Anya said without turning. "It's your own fault you have to do this, you know, so I don't want any whining or complaining."  
  
"What? I didn't complain. Just cleaning away, here."  
  
"How you ever thought Buffy wouldn't notice there was still a security tag on her birthday present is beyond me. If you're going to be a thief, then at least be a smart thief."  
  
Dawn didn't answer. The humiliation of having her possessions ransacked and examined as Buffy discovered item after item of stolen clothing and a box full of trinkets from the Magic Box still stung. She wished everyone would just let her do her time without bringing it up every few minutes. But then she supposed that was part of her punishment.  
  
Spike was the only person who hadn't stabbed her with one of those disappointed looks. He simply chided her for allowing herself to get caught. Buffy had curtailed Dawn's training with Spike along with every other extracurricular activity. Dawn had been allowed just a few minutes alone with him to explain herself when he showed up for a session before Buffy sent him away. And Dawn had overheard Buffy use terms like, "bad influence" and "I should have known better" which didn't sound promising for any TV nights or combat training in the future.  
  
The front bell rang and Dawn looked up from shining a little brass urn.  
  
"Hey, J.D., how's the gulag?" Xander asked as he strolled into the shop.  
  
"Huh? The goulash?"  
  
"Never mind." He looked over Dawn's shoulder at Anya, who was intently studying an order catalog. "Um, Dawnie. I need to talk to Anya, could you clean something in the training room for a minute?"  
  
"Sure," Dawn was glad to be out from under Anya's eagle eye and knew she'd have a better chance of eavesdropping from the back room. She looked to Anya for permission and when the ex-demon reluctantly nodded, Dawn exited.  
  
**********  
  
"You need something? Charm? Spell? Potion?" Anya asked him with chilly politeness. "We have a new collection of ward stones just in today."  
  
Xander remained silent for a moment, weighing his options on an opening volley. It was almost irresistible to fall back into the pattern of parry and thrust which he and Anya had developed for so long. But instead he bit his tongue and tried something new.  
  
"As a matter of fact, I am looking for something special," he answered, walking to the display case under the front counter. "Something silver and sparkly."  
  
"None of that jewelry has any real magic properties you know," Anya said, "So if Buffy's sent you to find a protection amulet or...."  
  
"No. Nothing like that," Xander shook his head. "Just something pretty that a woman would like. But then, it's only a first date so maybe jewelry is pushing it. What would you recommend?"  
  
Anya's mouth opened and closed. "First DATE!" she finally managed. "You came here to buy a present for some bimbo and you want ME to help you choose it?"  
  
"Well yeah. I mean, I trust your taste. I'm sure you'll help me pick out something..." Xander clicked his tongue and made a circle with thumb and index finger, "...just right."  
  
Anya's complexion flushed an alarming shade of red.  
  
"Of course, I haven't asked the girl yet," Xander said consideringly as he picked up a package of incense and sniffed it. "Maybe she won't want to go out with me."  
  
He set the incense down and began examining a small grinning totem next to the cash register. "But if she did, which do you think she would prefer, flowers, candy or maybe some scented bubble bath. Or is that last one too personal?"  
  
His eyes rose to meet hers and finally Anya got the message. She choked back the sharpened barbs that were waiting on her tongue. "Oh," she said instead, then cleared her throat. "Well ... I guess ... before you start buying presents, you'd need to ask the girl, wouldn't you?"  
  
"Guess so," he said, still basting her with liquid chocolate from his deep brown eyes. "But sometimes ... it's really hard to make that phone call, you know? I mean, sometimes a guy wants to but then his hand starts to dial and he gets all shaky and his throat freezes up and he knows he's just going to say something stupid when she picks up. So maybe he gives up and puts the phone back down before he can make an even bigger fool of himself."  
  
"Yeah, that sounds like men, all right," Anya agreed. A tiny smile played over her lips.  
  
"It doesn't mean the guy doesn't want to talk to the girl and make up or ... er ... ask her out."  
  
Anya nodded.  
  
"So, Anyanka, would you? If I asked?"  
  
Anya's smiled blossomed at Xander's first ever use of her real name. "Perhaps," she answered. "If you asked veeeerrry nicely."  
  
Xander's anxious face relaxed and he returned the smile.  
  
"And," she added smartly, "There's a lovely Aubousson carpet I've had my eye on, if you really want to know the way to a girl's heart."  
  
*********  
  
"The Doctor?" Buffy asked. "What kind of nickname is that?"  
  
"Don't know. It's just what they call him." Willie shrugged. "Hey, I only pass along what I hear and right now he's the guy to see for buying demon parts." He laughed. "Guess that explains the name - he has to carve up the goods. Though, maybe The Surgeon or The Butcher would be more appropr...."  
  
"All right! I get it. New player in town supplying demon bits for spells and rituals. What I want to know is where to find this guy."  
  
"That I can't help you with," Willie said, averting his eyes and distractedly wiping the counter.  
  
Buffy could see the shifty little man knew more than he was telling. She gave an exaggerated sigh. "Do we have to go through this little dance every time, Willie? Just give it to me all at once. Don't make me have to hit you."  
  
"Where'd be the fun in that?" Willie said, sarcastically.  
  
Buffy just stared for a beat.  
  
"All right. All right. I don't know where to find this guy but I did hear somebody talking the other night about some Suvolte eggs."  
  
"What eggs?"  
  
"Suvolte demon are nasty bastards. No more brain than a frog. But they're real useful if you want to rain down a little destruction on an enemy. They could rip their way through Sunnydale and leave not a man standing if someone was of a mind to take over the town."  
  
"And the eggs?"  
  
"Just waiting to hatch trouble ... or be scrambled into one helluva giant omelet. I heard the Doctor's got 'em hidden somewhere, waiting for an out of town buyer. But damn, Slayer, I gotta tell you this makes even me nervous. If those things hatched early...."  
  
"I'm on it," Buffy said. "I'll find this 'Doctor' and put him out of business."  
  
************  
  
"Spike?" Buffy's voice rang through the empty crypt. The shadowy interior revealed no sign of the vampire. "Great! Always in your way when you don't want him, but when you have a simple question to ask...." she muttered.  
  
Buffy swept her flashlight around the room. "God, get a cleaning service, why don't you." There were smashed bits of pottery near the sarcophagus in the center of the room, dead flowers trailing across the floor. Toppled candles were scattered here and there. Spike's stereo lay mangled in a corner as if it had been thrown against the wall. As a matter of fact, anything that could be torn, broken, shredded or flattened, was.  
  
Buffy smelled the stomach turning odor of sour milk and moved her beam around until she located the source: a carton of ice cream lying in a sticky pool of curdled pinkish scum. "Ice cream? What the...?" Her heart began to beat faster as she moved through the room, shoes crunching over pottery shards.  
  
She hadn't seen Spike since the night of her birthday party. In fact she had actively avoided him, her brain still running in breathless circles trying to wrap itself around the idea that it was Spike providing her with anonymous monetary gifts over these past few months. It was horrible and it was horribly sweet. It indebted her to him, which was totally frightening. And over and over she tried to convince herself he hadn't robbed or intimidated humans to acquire the money. Bad enough that part of it was dusted vampire loot, which of course originated with some poor human victim.  
  
Now here she was just to ask Spike what he knew about the Doctor and Suvolte demons in general, and it looked like he'd been kidnapped and dragged away. Humans could have done it. He would be completely at their mercy.  
  
Buffy quickly descended the ladder to the lower level and found the destruction continued. Bedding was spread halfway across the room, tangled sheets ribboned into rags. Great gashes were chopped into the bed posts and feathers from the pillows had settled on every surface. Funny crunchy brown flakes like cereal were also strewn around. Buffy picked one up and crushed it in her fingers. The scent of rose wafted up from her hand. Rose petals?  
  
In a flash Buffy understood. The date. Or what Spike imagined as a date. That night she'd stood him up then later beat him up. This is what he had had planned for the evening. Her heart clenched. She could picture him moving around his home fixing it up as best he could - all for her. How very disappointed he must have been. A vision of Spike rampaging through these rooms tearing apart all he had created replaced the first image in her mind. Not kidnapped then. Just Spike throwing a hissy fit.  
  
Tears prickled and she closed her eyes, willing them away. She breathed deeply for a moment then blinked away her sympathy. She rolled her shoulders and took another look around the crypt basement. How the hell had she let it get this far? Why had she allowed herself to sleep with him when she was invisible? As if that didn't count, as if it wouldn't encourage him or lead to even deeper feelings. How could she have allowed him to insinuate himself into their lives, both Dawn's and hers? Nothing but heartache could come of it. She had been foolish and irresponsible and now look where it had lead.  
  
As the last scolding words lashed through her mind, Buffy's flashlight came to rest on an area just before the tunnel leading to the sewer system. A half dozen oblong spherical shapes covered in a mucousy substance rested there.  
  
Buffy took a step toward them. Then another. She looked away and back again, but they were still there. "Oh my god," she murmured. "Spike. What have you done?"  
  
Just then, one of the eggs began to crack.  
  
To be continued.... 


	15. 15

"Still Bound" chapter 15  
  
This chapter: Battling the Suvolte Spawn (sounds like a band, doesn't it) and dealing with the fallout from Spike's ill-conceived money-making venture.  
  
**********  
  
In the moments she had to react before the first egg split open and spewed forth a scrabbling, scaly demon baby, Buffy realized she was unarmed but for a stake in the elastic waistband of her maternity pants. There was no way she could take on god knows how many little demonettes down here in the dark, enclosed basement of the crypt without a sword or ax. She quickly scrambled for the ladder and hauled herself up, cursing as one of her feet caught on a rung and she was forced to twist her foot out of her brand new loafer, abandoning it.  
  
Achieving the upstairs, Buffy ran for the door, hoping to get out and slam it shut behind her. Perhaps the Suvolte spawn could be contained in the crypt if she could only block the door from the outside. Then she would have some time to consider her next move. Something to destroy them all in one blow like a hand grenade would be super. Too bad she hadn't raided the Initiative arsenal after the final battle down in the labs.  
  
But already it was too late to escape the crypt. The small horde of hatchlings had followed right behind her and were ranging around the upper level of the crypt trying to flank her. In the come-and-go beam of the flashlight, Buffy could see them starting to surround her. The light also glinted on the sharp edge of Spike's best battle ax, which lay carelessly discarded in a corner. Buffy dove for the weapon, scraping her knees and distended belly as she skidded across the floor on all fours.  
  
She grabbed the weapon and flipped around quickly, afraid that one of the cockroachlike monsters would attack from behind. A graceless arch upwards and Buffy regained her feet and began swinging the ax in a wide circle, driving off any of the creatures that might be encircling her in the dark.  
  
In gaining a weapon, Buffy had lost her flashlight. It lay a few yards away, the beam of light illuminating only broken pottery in its path. However, weak moonlight marked the open door of the crypt, and in that light Buffy saw the silhouette of at least one Suvolte scurrying out. Damn! They were getting past her, escaping to wreak havoc all over Sunnydale.  
  
Buffy tore out the door, determined to stop the swarming Suvolte from getting past the cemetery grounds. Out in the open, she could see her foe beginning to disperse in as many directions as there were hatchlings.  
  
"One at a time, Buffy," she counseled herself and focused her attention on slicing the nearest baby demon. As the blade bisected it, a high-pitched squeal and scalding spurt of blood erupted from the hatchling. It flashed through Buffy's mind that she'd murdered some mother demon's infant before she spun on her heel and gave chase to the next foe.  
  
Realizing it was too late to stop the first wave, Buffy turned back toward the crypt and began methodically chopping at each new Suvolte to emerge from the door. She was on her third when she caught a glimpse of a blond and black blur from the corner of her eye.  
  
Spike was tearing after one of the escaping demons, hurdling tombstones which the creature was forced to scuttle around. Weaponless, he dove on top of the monster and began throttling it with his bare hands. Turning her attention back to her own fileting, Buffy was aware of a sharp crack and an aborted squeal and realized that Spike had broken his opponent's neck.  
  
After Buffy's third kill, no more Suvolte emerged from the crypt. She slammed the door shut in case there were any late hatchers, then began running toward the only other demon in sight.  
  
"Spike!" she yelled.  
  
He leaped to his feet over the sprawled body of the Suvolte and turned toward her wearing his battle face. Buffy suddenly realized that she hadn't seen him yellow-eyed and grinning in murderous glee for a long time.  
  
"Hey!" he called. "What are we killin' tonight?"  
  
"You should know. They came out of Your Crypt!" Buffy bellowed as she reached him and smashed her fist into his joyful face.  
  
"Fuck!" Spike howled as he grabbed his nose and blood gushed through his fingers. "What?"  
  
"Suvolte, Spike! Or should I call you Doctor now?"  
  
Spike's eyes above his hands told her everything she needed to know even before he began to speak. "I can explain. It's not like you...."  
  
"Shut up," Buffy snapped through clenched teeth, shaking her head in denial.  
  
"They weren't supposed to hatch so soon," he continued. "I thought the buyer would have them miles from here before...."  
  
"But you knew they would hatch sometime, you idiot!" Buffy interrupted again. "You knew that somebody somewhere would get hurt." She held up a hand before he could start in with more explanations. "Never mind. We don't have time for an ethics lesson now. You head that way. I'll go north. I'll call the others on the cell and we'll cover Sunnydale in a grid until we get the rest of these things. I think there are about a half dozen still out there."  
  
Spike nodded and wiped his still trickling nose on his wrist. Buffy handed him his axe. "You'll need a weapon. I'll stop by the Magic Box for another."  
  
He silently took the axe and started off to search the area she'd assigned him.  
  
As she watched his retreating back, Buffy took a deep, centering breath, patting her baby-bulge reassuringly.  
  
"Sorry about all the action, tadpole," she said. "Sacred duty, yadda, yadda." Little Jack kicked back at her comforting hand, then for good measure, gave her a sharp kick in the bladder. Buffy was forced to squat in the shadow of the crypt to relieve herself before heading off at a dead run toward town.  
  
***********  
  
"I'm a survivor. I'll never give up. I'll never stop. I'm gonna work harder," Dawn warbled along with Beyonce who was blasting her mantra directly through the headphones into Dawn's brain. Flipping her long brown hair and swiveling her hips, Dawn danced around the kitchen while her mac 'n' cheese microwaved.  
  
She looked in her text book, which was spread on the counter, for the next question.  
  
"'Tis a far better thing I do than I have ever done before..." she read aloud. "Who is Simon Carstairs?" She shouted, Jeopardy style.  
  
The phone rang and Dawn slipped off her headphones to answer it.  
  
"Hey, Janice! Whassup?" She listened for several minutes, nodding and uh- huh-ing at the appropriate times. "So what did you say?" she asked, and listened some more as she pulled her late night snack out of the microwave and peeled back the cellophane.  
  
"He's a jerk. Don't let him get to you," she advised her friend. Dawn stirred a fork around in the dish to let out steam. "No. No. I can't. Buffy'll find out. She could be home any time. I shouldn't even be on the phone, you know."  
  
She listened some more. "No. Don't do that! Look...." Dawn glanced at the clock and at the darkened windows. "It's really late. You shouldn't.... All right.... Yes. I'll come." She sighed. "Just sit tight. I'll be right over." Another pause. "I mean it, Janice. Don't do anything stupid! I'm coming."  
  
Dawn hung up the phone with another long-suffering sigh and tossed her fork down on the counter.  
  
"Buffy is so gonna kill me if she comes home," she muttered as she quickly scribbled a note and tossed on a jacket. She checked her inside pocket for her stake, which was right where it ought to be.  
  
Dawn was out the door and halfway down the block when the Suvolte spawn attacked. A sharp pain tore down her back from shoulder blade to hip when the creature leaped on her, shredding her coat and skin with a razor sharp claw. Dawn screamed and whirled around, but the monster clung to her, biting down on her shoulder with its razor like teeth.  
  
Acting on instinct, Dawn ran to the nearest tree and began trying to scrape the thing from her back. Screaming non-stop, she reached into her jacket, pulled out the stake and began driving it over her shoulder into the Suvolte's head. It released its Rottweiler jaws long enough to let out a screech of its own, then dug into her flesh even harder. She could hear it scissor through tissue and bone.  
  
Dawn gasped at the increased pain. Her heart jack-hammered in her chest and adrenaline coursing through her veins gave her Matrix-like power. She pulled her stake from the top of the Suvolte's head with a slurping sound and drove it in again with all her strength. She must have hit whatever passed for a brain in this primitive demon, because it let out a final scream and released its hold, falling off her back and hitting the ground with a thud.  
  
Dawn fell to her knees beside it, blubbering and gasping for air. Her hand went to her shoulder and came away sticky and red. Her gaze shifted from the Suvolte, still spasming in its death throes by her side, to her blood covered hand. The world began to darken around the edges and a loud buzzing filled her ears.  
  
"This can't be good," she murmured, staring at her hand as she slid the rest of the way to the ground. Her last conscious thought was of how much she hated Janice Pendleton.  
  
**********  
  
Dawn drifted into awareness of someone shaking her roughly and talking much too loud. It was very irritating. She was so cold and thought she could get warm if he would just let her sleep.  
  
"...fuck's sake! Christ, Little Bit, please wake up!"  
  
There was so much pain. She wondered if her arm was broken. Then the annoying person was wrapping something around her shoulder and pulling it way too tight. She tugged feebly at the material.  
  
"Good, you're awake! Let it be, Niblet. Have to keep the pressure on ... hit an artery"  
  
"Spike?" she managed to whisper.  
  
"Yeah. I'm here now. Gotta lift you up, take you to hospital."  
  
She felt him match action to word as her body was pressed against rock and raised by iron bands.  
  
"No," she gasped. "Buffy...."  
  
"Shh. Just you concentrate on breathing and staying alive."  
  
Her eyes fluttered open and Spike's blurry face was looming over her. She felt the jarring thud of his footsteps as he strode along carrying her like a broken doll.  
  
"She'll ... kill ... me," she finished her thought.  
  
"No. No, she won't, precious," he soothed. "Just rest now. You've lost a lot of blood."  
  
As her eyes drifted closed again and her consciousness began to spin out into the cosmos, Dawn thought she heard him add, "...kills anyone, it'll be me."  
  
*************  
  
When Buffy finally walked out of the hospital door it was well past sunrise, but Spike was lurking in the shadow of the western face of the building. He stepped toward her.  
  
"Is she...?"  
  
"She'll live." Buffy stood, facing away from him, staring at the parking lot.  
  
Spike relaxed palpably. He nodded and leaned back against the wall. "After I found you, I took a sweep around town. Killed another Suvolte. With yours and the one Harris got, I think that's all now."  
  
"Good," she said vacantly.  
  
"Buffy," his voice lowered as he importuned her. "I'm sorry. Never meant for...."  
  
"It doesn't matter," she interrupted sharply. "It doesn't matter what you mean, just what you do."  
  
Spike leaned toward her. His eyes searched her blank face, but it gave no clue as to her level of pissed off.  
  
"I'll change," he entreated. "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it ... or not do it."  
  
She finally looked at him, head moving slowly as though she were half asleep. "I can't be your conscience, Spike. I can't always be there to say 'Don't kill Ben' or 'Don't steal from that convenience store.' If you don't know on your own what's right and wrong . then I can't have you here. Not around my family. Not around my town." Unspoken but hanging in the air between them was the knowledge that by all rights she should be staking his undead ass about now.  
  
"Buffy...." he whispered, reaching to touch her arm.  
  
"I want you to leave," she said, eyes returning to studying the cars in the parking lot, the early morning sun glinting off their shiny windows.  
  
"I forgot what you are,' she continued quietly, as though thinking aloud. "Not a man but a monster. That's all you can be."  
  
'I'll try harder. Give me a chance,' he wanted to beg, to fall to his knees and grovel at her feet, but the implacable tone of her voice froze the words in his mouth.  
  
Buffy moved from the shadow of the building then paused. "Better get inside somewhere, Spike, before you fry." And with that goodbye, she walked away.  
  
***********  
  
The horizon was still pink when Spike threw the last of his meager belongings in the DeSoto and slid behind the wheel. He gunned the motor and peeled out just for the sheer joy of making noise.  
  
In the two minutes it took him to reach the city limits sign on the hillside above town, the sky had completely blackened to night. Spike pulled off the road, got out and leaned on the front of the car like some oversized hood ornament. He looked up at the stars coming to life in the sky and at the matching twinkles of man-made light in the town below.  
  
Blowing smoke from his nostrils, he flicked ash impatiently from the tip of his cigarette before tossing the whole butt down into the grass. He watched the ember glow then the dry grass begin to ignite and curl into flame. After a moment or two of watching the fire spread and grow, he stomped it out with a vicious grind of his boot.  
  
"I CAN change," he growled as he stomped. "I'll show her how much I can change."  
  
A brief memory of Angelus' torment immediately after the soul curse flashed through his mind, but he instantly dismissed it. 'Won't be like that,' he thought. 'I'll be me, only better. She's halfway to loving me already. This'll finish it off. If it's just a little soul that stands between us, I can take care of that.'  
  
Then, feeling more hopeful than he had in weeks, Spike got back in the car and started off on his grand quest.  
  
To be continued....  
  
Whew! I made it through a lot of action, the hardest thing of all to write. It took me a long time to come up with something comparable to the attempted rape, something that would be an obvious catalyst for Spike's change but not involve a personal assault on anyone. I think unleashing Suvolte demons on Sunnydale and causing injury to Dawn works great! Because it's basically a stupid accident due to poor planning, we find ourselves able to forgive morally-challenged Spike. But on the other hand, it's a huge enough error to make even Spike understand that he needs an inner compass for right and wrong that he just doesn't have without a soul. Sorry to all those who prefer soul-less Spike winning Buffy. I used to be part of your camp, but I've switched sides. Besides, I love the drama of Spike dealing with the guilt caused by the addition of a soul. 


	16. 16

Still Bound, Chapter 16 (Last chapter of this series)  
  
Following Spike's dismissal from Sunnydale a lot of shit goes down.  
  
A million, million thanks to Zyrya, who put in so much time working with me on this fic. Thanks to her I finally know how many dots go in an ellipse and where the spaces go. Also, learned not to go for the easy, tired similes or hackneyed expressions but to attempt fresh comparisons and word combinations.  
  
***********  
  
"Smash his orbs!" Jonathan's squeaky voice stage-whispered in her ear. He was clinging to her back like a baby opossum as Buffy struggled to simultaneously unlatch his clutching fingers from her shoulders, straighten her hat which had been knocked over one eye and check on the location of her real threat, Warren.  
  
"Huh? Get off, you annoying ...." She twisted in his grip and reached back to deliver a none too gentle slap but he stuck tight.  
  
"Ow!" he yelped and began pummeling her head with one fist.  
  
Buffy wanted to laugh at the ludicrous image they must present, Buff- biscuit and her diminutive jockey. As a matter of fact, this whole battle with super-charged Warren and his pals was beyond ridiculous and into the realm of surreal. Buffy wondered for a moment if she was under yet another delusional spell courtesy of the Trio. Perhaps she was inhabiting Warren's perfect dream world.  
  
Anything seemed possible after the time shifting, mind bending, world changing hell these guys had put her through last week. She shuddered to think what would have happened to her friends and sister if Tara hadn't intervened.  
  
Buffy finally shook herself like a dog shedding water and Jonathan flew off and landed in a heap. Looking up, Buffy saw that Warren had been watching the show with amusement and was more than ready for her next attack.  
  
"Nice try, little pill bug," Warren commended Jonathan. "If you're finished now, why don't you let the big guns handle it." He gave a clumsy high kick, which Buffy easily deflected. Warren's new super strength didn't come with super skill.  
  
Buffy ducked under Warren's arm as he swung recklessly at her face. She tucked and rolled then straightened and turned to deliver a glancing blow to his side. Warren swiveled around with an angry roar and another punch that connected this time. Buffy's head snapped back on her neck and she fell on her back, gasping for breath as the wind was knocked out of her.  
  
'Wish Spike was here,' the little voice in the back of her mind, which had been chanting that refrain for four weeks, started up again. 'I need back up.' She rolled again, to the side this time, and Warren's heavy boot whistled past her ear. Buffy curled into a protective ball around her precious stomach as he aimed another kick that sharply stabbed her kidneys. Buffy gasped and cried out. Her eyes watered at the intense pain.  
  
"Warren!" Jonathan admonished. "Just leave her. We've got what we came for. Let's take the money and go."  
  
"Gotta let her know who's the new overlord of Sunnydale, sport," Warren crowed, as he kicked her again.  
  
Buffy caught the offending foot in both hands and twisted. Warren let out a surprised cry as he was thrown off balance and landed on the ground next to her. Through the haze of tears clouding her eyes, Buffy saw a pouch attached to his belt.  
  
'That's important,' a dispassionate interior voice informed her. 'Those aren't marbles he's carrying.'  
  
She snatched the pouch from his belt and smashed it against the ground under her hand.  
  
"Noooo!!!" Warren howled, and Buffy could have sworn she actually felt the heat of energy drain from him and whoosh back to the crumbled fragments beneath her fist.  
  
Scrambling to his feet, Warren tossed off his coat revealing a pair of rockets strapped to his back.  
  
"This isn't over yet, Slayer!" he warned. "You'll pay for this ... Whoa!" He let out an undignified yell as the jet pack ignited and sent him hurtling skyward.  
  
Buffy sat up stiffly, rubbing at her aching lower back and staring at Warren as he rose into the night. "You have got to be kidding!" she exclaimed.  
  
The third guy, Tucker's brother, took the opportunity to shed his jacket and reveal his own jet pack.  
  
"Hey! Why didn't I get one of those?" Jonathan wailed.  
  
"Till we meet again, Slayer. This round to you, but the game is far from over." He pressed a button or flipped a switch and the jets fired up. Throwing back his head to deliver a classic evil villain laugh, the kid rose upward and straight into the metal roof above him. He was slapped back down to earth in a humiliating huddle.  
  
"Don't even think of running," Buffy cautioned Jonathan, whose gaze was darting from her to his downed cohort to the open road leading out of the amusement park. "I will hunt you down like a dog."  
  
"O-okay," he answered shakily, raising his hands tentatively above his head.  
  
"I think I need an ambulance," the third member of the trio moaned, rolling from side to side.  
  
Buffy dragged herself to her feet.  
  
***********  
  
By the time the cops had arrived and taken her statement and custody of the two criminals, Buffy was shivering from exhaustion and cold. She climbed gratefully into Xander's warm car and collapsed across the back seat.  
  
"If I have to explain my coincidental appearance at one more crime scene...." She was too tired to think of anything clever to finish her thought.  
  
"Jeez, Buff, you're so pale!" Xander fussed as he slid behind the steering wheel and looked over his shoulder at her. "Maybe we should stop by the emergency room and...."  
  
"I'm fine," she said firmly. "Really. Just get me home and let me crawl into bed."  
  
"All right," he replied, sounding unconvinced but used to following orders.  
  
The engine started with a clink and a roar and they sped away.  
  
"Xander."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Thanks for coming out to get me."  
  
"I live to serve, mon capitain."  
  
"I'm glad," she murmured sleepily.  
  
*********  
  
Late the following afternoon, Buffy and Xander sat in the Summers' garden, a rare pastoral experience for a night dweller like Buffy. The golden rays of sun gilded the plants and turned the pollen and dust in the air to shimmering confetti. An occasional shriek of laughter floated from the open upstairs window where Willow and Tara were getting dressed for an evening out.  
  
Buffy sighed in contentment and shifted in her chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. Her lower back was sending out some serious twinges that wrapped around her abdomen in a mantle of ache. She smoothed a hand over the taut fabric of her shirt where it molded to the round bulge of her stomach, then gave the bulge a little pat for good measure.  
  
"You okay?" Xander asked for the fifth time, rolling his empty bottle of beer back and forth between his palms. He was leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees, gazing at the broken shards of garden gnome that Dawn hadn't cleaned up yet despite repeated reminders.  
  
"Fine. Stop worrying. Super Slayer healing, remember?"  
  
Xander nodded. "Are you going to get another one?" he asked, pointing at the dismembered gnome. "'Cause I gotta tell you, those things creep me out."  
  
"God no. That was never ours to begin with. I don't know how we never noticed it all this time." She shuddered. "And if it wasn't for Anya finding the camera in the skull at the Magic Box, his dirty little gnome eyes would still be watching us."  
  
"You know," Xander mused. "I think I met Warren once ... before in high school. I was in a comic book club for a while and I think he came once or twice. Weird, huh? How people can come into your life and you never know how important they'll end up being. I mean, you could pass a stranger on the street, nod 'hello', and maybe your lives will never come in contact again, but maybe through some chain of events that person will turn out to be one of the most important people you ever met. Maybe they're the emergency room doctor that later saves your life or the girl you end up marrying or, in this case, the evil nerd who tries to kill you."  
  
"Yep. Life's funny like that," Buffy replied absently. But she thought of her first encounter with the skinny, intense, practically albino vampire who had promised to kill her on Saturday and how she never could have imagined how many ways he would work his way under her skin.  
  
"I miss Spike," she sighed, and then bit her tongue as she realized she'd actually given voice to the thought.  
  
"What?" Xander sat up straight, bottle dangling from one finger inserted in the neck. His eyes widened.  
  
"What?" Buffy repeated inanely, eyes also widening. "I mean, Dawn. Dawn misses Spike, and it's making her cranky so I wish, uh, wish Spike was still around. You know, to train with her and all that. He really was doing a good job teaching her to fight."  
  
"Look, Buffy, I know you have a soft spot for the guy, what with his little chip handicap and all, but after the stunt he pulled with the Suvolte demons, I don't know how you could cut him any slack. You just let him leave town to wreak whatever havoc he can whip up on an unsuspecting world. He's not as harmless as you like to think."  
  
"I know," she agreed. "I know he can still cause a lot of damage, but I feel like underneath it all he's ...." she paused, at a loss.  
  
"A soulless killer?" Xander supplied. "How can you forget how he tried to help Adam by turning us against each other? And now this 'supplier to the underworld' bit. Buffy, you should have finished him."  
  
"I just ... just couldn't," she said, still searching for words. "There's something there. I think ... I mean, I feel, that there's something worthwhile there."  
  
"Why? What makes him any different than any of the other vampires you've dusted over the past six years? He doesn't have a soul. He's no Angel." After all this time, Xander still spat the name 'Angel' like it was broken glass.  
  
"No, that he isn't," Buffy actually smiled as certain comparisons between the two flashed in her mind. "Nothing like."  
  
"So what?" Xander sounded completely nonplussed. Then, light dawning, he added, "Wait a minute. This doesn't have anything to do with Willow's spell from last year. You don't ... don't have feelings for the guy?"  
  
"No. Of course not," Buffy's smile disappeared and she sat up straighter and said briskly. "It doesn't matter anyway. He's gone now and not coming back." Changing the subject, she focused on Xander's face. "So ... how's this 'just dating' thing with Anya going? Isn't it hard to return to no physical contact after ... well, you know?"  
  
Xander grinned and examined the label on his beer bottle. "Well, I wouldn't say there was absolutely no physical contact ...."  
  
A sharp crack split the air as someone's car backfired. Xander's head automatically jerked up at the sound and his eyes met Buffy's puzzled ones looking over his shoulder.  
  
"You think you can just do that to me? You think I'd let you get away with that? Think again!"  
  
Xander swung around to face the rabidly ranting figure standing at the street, waving his arm and clutching a gun. Another loud report and Xander actually felt the bullet whizz past him, heard Buffy's quiet, surprised cry, saw Warren turn and run. But it was all so dreamlike and slow-moving that he couldn't react.  
  
"Wha...?" he asked muzzily, as he turned back toward Buffy. She had half risen from her chair and the impact of the bullet had propelled her backward to hit the chair with the backs of her knees and then crumple to the ground.  
  
"Buffy!" he screamed.  
  
*************  
  
Buffy and Dawn entered the house, still laughing and mimicking Sean Connery's accent. The movie had been pretty much a bust, but the sarcasm value alone made it worthwhile. Tossing her purse on the hall table, Buffy felt Dawn's sharp elbow poke her ribs. She looked up and saw her sister, a finger to her lips, pointing toward the living room where their would-be babysitter was sprawled on the couch fast asleep.  
  
Spike, barefoot and wearing only his jeans, was lying with one arm thrown up beside his head, the other firmly holding on to Baby Jack, who was sleeping on his chest. The diaper-clad infant was breathing with his rosebud lips parted and drool puddling on Spike's ivory skin. The baby's fuzzy hair stuck up in sweaty tendrils and his skin was flushed red. It looked like the little guy had been crying for a good long while. One tiny fist clenched and unclenched and a frown passed over his smooth, round face.  
  
"Looks like someone was cranky. Poor Spike!" Dawn whispered, smiling sympathetically.  
  
Buffy walked into the living room for a better look at her darling child and brave boyfriend.  
  
Spike looked thoroughly exhausted. His hair had escaped its gel shellac and like Jack's was curling in wild tendrils; dark lashes rested against pale cheeks and dark brows were slightly knit. He patted the baby with the hand that held him in place against his naked chest and murmured, "Ssshhh. Sh now, love."  
  
Buffy smiled and reached out to brush a finger over Jack's soft, soft head. He stirred again and whimpered, made sucking motions with his mouth then inserted two of his chubby fingers and began to nurse on them with loud smacking noises.  
  
Remembering her mother's admonition, "Let dogs and sleeping babies lie!" Buffy smoothed her hand once more over the little head, then moved on to brush her fingers lightly along Spike's jaw. His eyes fluttered open and regarded her blankly for a second, then were suffused with that adoring, unbelieving, worshipful gaze she'd come to depend on. His lips quirked and he rumbled low, "Have a nice time, pet? Hope you appreciated it 'cause it's never going to happen again. Your rugrat is a royal pain in the ass ... just like his mum."  
  
Buffy's smile stretched even wider. "We love you, too, Spike."  
  
"No you don't. You just want a sitter for free," he teased. But at her words his face lit with a transcendent glow. He and the baby were suffused in warm golden light that grew steadily brighter and brighter.  
  
Buffy's smile disappeared. She reached a hand out toward them. "Wait! Don't ...."  
  
The light turned to flame so hot it pushed Buffy back. Spike continued to beam at her. Jack continued to sleep, as they were consumed by the fire.  
  
"No! Not yet! Don't ... don't leave me!" she screamed, fighting against the waves of heat that held her back. She pushed against air thick and resistant as molten lava, attempting to reach them, but they were already bursting apart in a cloud of ash.  
  
Buffy woke with a cry to darkness, an unfamiliar room, the smell of antiseptic, a hospital bed. She looked around frantically trying to place herself, to remember what had happened. Her hand automatically reached down to caress her belly and ensure her baby's safety. Her stomach was flat, the familiar mound gone.  
  
She tried to sit up and pain pulled at her midsection and seared through her shoulder. She fell back with a gasp, clutching at the hospital gown.  
  
"Buffy, it's okay. I'm here!" Dawn bolted up from a chair near the bed, rushed to her side and took her hand, gripping it tightly. "You were shot," Dawn explained, stroking her hand soothingly. "Warren. He came after you."  
  
"I was with .... What happened to Xander?" Buffy managed to croak. "Is he all right?"  
  
"Y-yes. Xander's all right," Dawn's voice sounded funny and Buffy looked at her sharply.  
  
"But ...?"  
  
"Nothing. Don't worry. Everything's going to be okay. Do you want some water? I'll get you some water," Dawn continued, not meeting her eyes.  
  
"What?" Buffy demanded flatly. "What's happened."  
  
"I can't," Dawn dithered. "Xander said you should rest. He wouldn't leave until he found out you were going to be okay, then he told me to keep you quiet when you woke up, that he would take care of it."  
  
"Tell me!"  
  
"But you've lost the baby, Buffy! And they had to dig a bullet out of your shoulder! You've got to promise to lie there and get better and not go all Slayer on me if I tell you."  
  
"Dawn, I will go all Slayer on you if you don't open your mouth and spill right now," Buffy might have sounded more menacing if she weren't paper white and trembling.  
  
Searching her sister's eyes, Dawn nodded as if coming to a decision. She began to relate what had happened while Buffy was unconscious.  
  
As Dawn's words rushed over her like water, Buffy felt herself slipping in and out of the stream. It was hard to focus, harder still to care. Continuously smoothing her hand over her flat stomach, she listened in dreamy disconnection.  
  
"So Anya said Willow just sucked all that dark magic up into her, drained all the books dry, then walked right back out again," Dawn explained, sounding far away and tinny to Buffy's ears. " ... called Xander on his cell and found out about the shooting."  
  
Buffy wondered if things would have been different if she'd paid attention to Willow's growing power sooner. Maybe listening and discussing instead of lecturing and giving ultimatums after that incident with Dawn and the boils .... She sighed and shifted, trying to find a comfortable position, one in which her shoulder didn't feel like it was being skewered by hot pokers.  
  
" ... knew about Tara yet. I came home and found her there in the bedroom," Dawn's voice broke. When she spoke again it was thick with unshed tears. "Buffy, she looked like Tara but ... but not, you know? The thing that made her Tara was just ... gone. She looked," Dawn paused to consider, "broken."  
  
Eyes dry as sand, Buffy clutched her sister's hand tighter and made appropriate comforting noises. She felt she ought to scream and cry and curse the injustice of Tara's death but couldn't even summon up the energy to believe in it.  
  
Dawn sniffed and roughly rubbed her other hand across her eyes. " ... called 911 ... then Xander ... police gave me a ride ...."  
  
Buffy wondered mildly if she were about to pass out. Dawn's narrative seemed to be coming and going like cable TV on a windy day. Buffy couldn't remember how she was supposed to respond. Was this a serious or humorous story? Was she expected to smile and nod or frown and shake her head?  
  
" ... until you were out of surgery, then he went after Willow."  
  
There was a pause in the flow and Buffy knew it was her turn to say something. What was it?  
  
"How long ago?" she asked hollowly.  
  
"Over an hour ... so angry ... Xander can handle...."  
  
Would that anxious, irritatingly loud voice never stop? Buffy closed her hot eyes and imagined that she was floating in a cool swimming pool, cradled by water, hair fanning out around her head, with nothing more important to decide than rather to continue floating or swim laps.  
  
Her attention snagged on a hard buoy, and what was a buoy doing in her swimming pool?  
  
" ... hope he doesn't get to her in time. I hope she flays Warren alive for what he did!" Dawn's ferocity pierced her aquatic bubble.  
  
Buffy's eyes opened and she tried to pull her thoughts together.  
  
"No," she said. "Don't ...."  
  
"Why not?" Dawn snapped. "I hate him! Hate him!"  
  
"And he should be punished." Buffy marveled at her ability to form words that actually made sense. "But not by Willow. Think of what it would do to her to ... to kill someone when she's out of her head like this."  
  
"Then I wish Spike were here. He'd find a way to take care of Warren like he did Ben," Dawn continued with terrier tenacity.  
  
Buffy decided a teenager with a vendetta was scarier than a Sicilian mafioso.  
  
"And Spike would still be here if ...." Dawn's angry voice trailed off but the meaning was clear.  
  
Buffy sighed and closed her eyes again. Maybe Dawn was right. At this moment it would be so easy to surrender things into Spike's capable hands. Let the soulless being plow through the morass of questionable ethics and cut to the heart of the problem. But it would ...  
  
" ... be wrong, Dawn," Buffy murmured. "Human laws ...." She trailed off.  
  
"God, you're really out of it!" Dawn sounded taken aback. "You'd better get some sleep."  
  
"No." Buffy struggled to sit up. "I have to go. Have to help."  
  
"No you don't. Let Xander handle this one," Dawn commanded with steely defiance, pushing her gently back onto the bed. "You're in no shape and, believe it or not, you aren't the only one who can fix things."  
  
Buffy relaxed despite herself and gratefully accepted the glass of water Dawn held to her lips. She drank it down then allowed her sister to tuck the covers firmly around her.  
  
"It'll all be okay, Buffy. You'll see," Dawn whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "We'll all be fine ...."  
  
Her voice faded away and the light faded away and Buffy was floating in blessed, codeine induced darkness.  
  
**********  
  
"Hello, love. What are you doing here?" a rumbling voice came from the shadows on her left.  
  
"Where's here?" she asked, trying to make out shapes in the pitch black.  
  
"Cave," he replied. "Dark, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes. I can't see you." Buffy held out a blind hand. "Why are we here?"  
  
"Don't know about you, but I'm waiting for my boon," he answered.  
  
"Your which?"  
  
"Never mind," he chuckled. She felt a hand slip into hers, strong fingers lace through her own. "Come wait with me?" he asked.  
  
It was quiet and cool there so she sat on the hard stone floor with him and waited.  
  
***********  
  
"Mama, nooooo! I hate those socks!" Jack shrieked at glass-shattering pitch. "I won't wear 'em! You can't make me!" His face was bright red and tear streaked as he thrashed around, kicking his stubby little legs.  
  
"Honey, you've got to get your shoes on. We're going to be late," Buffy pleaded, gripping his ankle firmly and cramming on an offensive sock. She hated herself for doing it but was reduced to resorting to bribery. "We'll stop at McDonald's later. How about that?"  
  
A brilliant smile broke through the clouds. "Can I get a Happy Meal? They got Scooby Doo. I seen it on the commercial."  
  
"Sure," Buffy agreed, then held up an admonishing finger. "But only if Aunt Willow says you're good for her the whole time you're there. And that means no arguing, no yelling and NO chasing Miss Kitty this time."  
  
Jack was wide-eyed and astonished. "I never chased Kitty! I love her! I was just tryin' to pet her."  
  
"Okay, kiddo. Let's roll," Buffy lifted her recalcitrant toddler and swung him through the air. He shrieked with pleasure. Buffy considered that the mood swings of a pre-schooler rivaled severe PMS.  
  
As they walked out the door her precious whirlwind wrapped his arms around her neck and gave her a fierce hug. "I love you, mama. Sorry 'bout the socks."  
  
"Love you too." She smiled and gave him a big smooch on the mouth.  
  
"Ew, ma," he groaned, scrubbing at his lips with one grubby hand.  
  
Buffy growled, tossed him over her shoulder and carried him upside down and laughing all the way to the car.  
  
***********  
  
"I love you," she whispered. "You know that, right?"  
  
"Not particularly," Spike answered gruffly. "Hasn't been glaringly obvious up to now."  
  
"Well, I do." She fell silent, thinking. "And not just because of what we do in bed. It's ...."  
  
He waited patiently. It wasn't often that Buffy put her feelings into words and he wasn't about to derail her thoughts by making some smart-ass comment.  
  
"The way you listen to me ... and tell me the truth about things even when I don't want to hear. It drives me crazy but I need it."  
  
"Mm," he gave a non-committal grunt.  
  
She snuggled in closer, squeezing him in her powerful arms and nuzzling her face against his chest. "Want more?" she teased.  
  
"Yeah," he answered softly.  
  
"I love the way you're so thoughtful and sweet under that stupid Big Bad exterior. I love knowing that, if I let you, you'd pamper me like a princess, but at the same time you'd push me to be as tough a fighter as I need to be. It's a rare thing, for a man to love a woman's strength."  
  
"That it is. Angel couldn't do it," he was quick to point out.  
  
"No," she agreed, smiling at his insecurity. "Angel likes being in charge too much."  
  
"So ...." he drew the word out with a sibilant hiss, "You got anything in particular you want to command me to do? Ready and willing here."  
  
"Not just now," Buffy said with a laugh. "I think we've done enough damage for a while. I'm happy just cuddling like this, aren't you?"  
  
"It's more than I ever imagined," he answered solemnly. "You sure you're not under another of Willow's spells?"  
  
"Uh-uh. This time it's for real."  
  
**********  
  
Buffy listened at Jack's half open bedroom door to the murmur of voices inside: Jack's, plaintive and tear-soaked; Spike's, rumbly and soothing.  
  
In a moment they stopped and she stepped away so that Spike could exit the door.  
  
"Well?" she asked as he pulled it closed behind him. "Did you find out what happened?"  
  
He took her arm and led her down the hall to their bedroom.  
  
"He's quite a fighter, our Jack," Spike said proudly, closing the door behind him and gathering Buffy into his arms.  
  
"And did you remember to tell him it's wrong to hit? That there's not any excuse for getting into a brawl on the playground?" She pushed against his chest and gave him a glare. "You were supposed to set him straight!"  
  
"Look, pet, young Jack set a bully in his place good and proper. There's no harm in that. From what I understand this Fury kid's been harassing all and sundry ever since first grade."  
  
"He could've gone to a playground monitor or .."  
  
"Be a tell tale?" Spike sneered. "Come Buffy, what kind of ponce would you turn our boy into? He was protecting a weaker lad and I'm right proud of him. I won't tell him otherwise."  
  
Buffy sighed and relaxed a little into his enfolding embrace. "Big bully, huh? How big?"  
  
"Twice Jack's size to hear him tell it. And he got in some good licks before they pulled him off."  
  
Against her will, Buffy smiled. "My god, I'm raising a little hellion," she said, resting her head on Spike's chest.  
  
"That's the Summers blood in him," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. "Runs hot, doesn't it?"  
  
"Hot enough to warm the undead," she teased, pulling away and giving him a lascivious smirk. "Want to find out?" She took his hand and pulled him to their bed.  
  
*******  
  
In her sleep, Buffy smiled and turned and dreamed and dreamed ..  
  
The End  
  
Don't be sad. There's still a world where Buffy and Spike can be together and be happy. We just haven't reached it yet. I want to write an alternate season 7 (preferably without SITs) but it will take a lot of mapping out and I need a long, long, LONG break from writing for now. When it's ready, my muse will come back in full force and stuff will pour forth, but it's currently in hibernation. 


	17. 17 Epilogue

"Still Bound" - Epilogue or Teaser for season 7 - Whichever  
  
Ending on Buffy's dream sequence was too upsetting for many so here's perhaps a better cliffhanger coda. If I had stuff plotted out, I'd just keep on going, but it's really bad to write without a master plan in place. You can paint yourself into a corner that way. Even this little bit may change as needed.  
  
*********  
  
"Who has the power, Dawn?" Buffy asked, shadowing her sister as Dawn slowly moved toward the newly risen vamp. He was swaying slightly on his feet getting his bearings, scenting the air like an animal, brushing earth from his best Sunday suit with grubby fingers.  
  
"I have the stake," Dawn answered confidently. "He, on the other hand, doesn't even seem to know what he is yet."  
  
Buffy almost smiled at her cockiness. Almost.  
  
"Wrong! He has instinct in his favor. He's a predator and you're a meal," she chided.  
  
Heedlessly, Dawn lunged and drove the stake into the fledgling's chest. Then, both the vampire and the girl stared in surprise at the wood protruding from the front of his no longer white shirt. Blood was pooling around the stake and dripping down the dirty material.  
  
"Oops!" Dawn said. "My bad." She grabbed the stake tighter and tried to pull it back out.  
  
With an angry roar he backhanded her, knocking her sideways into a tombstone, and pulled the stake out himself.  
  
"What the hell is this?" he asked. "Who are you people?" Ridged brow folded into further wrinkles of confusion as he looked from the stake to Dawn laying on the ground, to Buffy.  
  
"Your destiny," Buffy explained as she drove her own stake neatly into his heart.  
  
He exploded into a shower of dust that rained over the pair of them. Coughing and choking, Dawn climbed back to her feet, rubbing her sore shoulder.  
  
"Ugh. Warn me when you're going to do that. I had my mouth open," she complained. "And, really, 'your destiny'? Puh-leaze! You should let me work the quips."  
  
"You do this for six or seven years and still try to come up with something fresh," Buffy said, returning the stake to her pocket and running her hands over Dawn's arm. "You okay?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm fine." Dawn pulled away from her. "Thought I had him," she muttered.  
  
"It's easy to miss at first," Buffy comforted giving her shoulder a final pat. "I've done it myself." She added, "But just remember, it only takes once, one mistake and ...."  
  
"I've got it," Dawn said impatiently. "Buh-bye Dawn. I'll be more careful next time."  
  
The sisters walked side by side through the cemetery and this time nothing but crickets disturbed the quiet.  
  
As they passed the elaborate stone pillars gracing the front of a crypt, Dawn glanced at Buffy's profile.  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
"Mm-hm."  
  
"Do you ever ...? (think about Spike, miss him, wonder what happened to him, wonder if he misses us, wonder if he's dust, wonder if he's coming back, wish you'd never told him to leave) Uh, never mind," she finished awkwardly.  
  
Buffy looked at her sharply. "No. Tell me. The counselor said we need to communicate more ... or better or something so communicate already. What do you want to ask?"  
  
Dawn nodded and drew a deep breath. "You're right, or actually, Mrs. Schlarmin is right. We do need to talk more. I was just wondering if you ever think ..." she paused, "about what it would have been like if the baby had lived. I mean, you never really said anything about it, about what you were feeling. Granted at first Willow was in the middle of a psychic meltdown and then came Tara's funeral and we were all kind of distracted, but then after things settled down you still never talked about it."  
  
She paused for breath. "Baby Jack ... even though you never met him, don't you kinda ... miss him? I do and he wasn't even mine. You've got to be feeling loss and grief and ...."  
  
Dawn's rambling analysis went on, but Buffy had tuned it out at the words 'if the baby had lived.' Did she think of it? Only about a hundred times a day, every single day. And then there were the nights with the glorious technicolor dreams about a future she would never have. How could she have possibly imagined when she became pregnant that it would ever work out? That a Slayer, who by definition lived a violent life with an early death, could bear a child, let alone raise it to maturity.  
  
"Mrs. Schlarmin told you to get me to open up, right?" she abruptly interrupted.  
  
"Huh?" Dawn looked startled. "Well ... yeah, she did say something about the 'sisterly confessional' or whatever. You know how much she talks. I just zone out sometimes. But I do agree with her even if I don't like all her touchy-feely crap. You do need to express yourself, Buffy."  
  
Coming to a dead halt, Buffy folded her arms across her chest and said, "Fine. Yes, it hurts. Yes, I think of him. But nothing's gonna change it so what good is yammering on and on? There! Is that enough 'sharing' for one night?" She resumed walking.  
  
"Does it for me," Dawn answered bluntly, falling in step beside her.  
  
"Good."  
  
They walked a few more paces in silence.  
  
"Want to stop and get a cappuccino? It's getting kind of cold out here," Dawn said.  
  
"Sure."  
  
They headed out of the graveyard, passing through the wrought iron gates and heading toward the shops down town.  
  
*********  
  
In the shadow of a large oak tree at the edge of the cemetery, a black clad figure watched them walk away. A stray beam of moonlight infiltrated the leaves of the ancient tree and gilded his hair and profile silver. He instantly pulled back into deeper shadows like a snail retracting into its shell. Invisible and safe again he watched their figures recede down the street until they were too small for even vampire eyes to see.  
  
(To be continued eventually)  
  
This piece was inspired by watching the real season 7 opener this morning. God, I love poor crazy Spike in the basement. But I don't know how messed up I want my Spike to be yet so for now he's just a figure in the shadows. 


End file.
